As Dame Edna would affectionately say, "Hello, possums!" (The good opossums in my prestigious Diamond Bar neighborhood wanted me to give a shout-out to them.) I'm coming to you today from the main library at my alma mater, Chapman University. The Leatherby Libraries, built in 2007, is a most proper university library and has an impressive collection of specialty collections organized by field of study, a Holocaust museum and library on the top floor, and a study commons where I am typing this blog using the free wi-fi network.
On Monday the students at Chapman start fall classes, as well as those at Mt. San Antonio College, the community college where I am currently studying Web Design. It's always an exciting mass of confusion, anxiety and fun when the entire student body descends on campus all at once finding their classes, meeting their professors and classmates, and frantically adding or dropping courses after the last minute. At Chapman that's about 6,400 students, at Mt. SAC about 40,000. Either way, it's insane the first week of classes.
Yesterday I visited the Fish Interfaith Center, the non-denominational chapel used by Chapman's religious community across nine different faiths, among them Christians, Muslims, Jews, Wiccans, Buddhists, Bahai's, and a New Age campus group called G.O.A.T. (Society for the Global Observation and Appreciation of the Transcendent). Ramadan, the holiest month in Islam, is winding down and the smaller chapel in the center has been set aside for devout Muslims to pray and meditate while they are fasting from dawn to dusk. Like many other university "religious centers", it is truly a multi-purpose building, but in a serene and inspirational setting.
Back around 1997 I was living in the neighborhood not far off from campus, and at the time Chapman announced its plans to build a new "All Faiths Chapel" that would be used by the entire campus community, Christian and non-Christian alike. There was a lot of controversy over the plans. Many orthodox Christians (including myself) opposed it because the school seemed to be deliberately casting off the conservative theology of its namesake, Charles C. Chapman. On the other side, the theologically liberal Disciples of Christ (Chapman's founding denomination) and students of other faiths blasted the school for discriminating in favor of "the Religious Right" and betraying its commitment to spiritual diversity by having a second "Founders Chapel" alongside the main All Faiths Chapel specifically for Christian meditation and worship. In trying to please everybody, Chapman infuriated everybody.
When the Fish Interfaith Center opened in 2001, however, all the controversy didn't matter anymore, at least to me it didn't. While still committed to biblical, orthodox Christianity and still believing the Disciples of Christ is a liberal, apostate denomination, I have rejected my initial opposition to the center's construction and purpose.
Now before you accuse me of being ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, hear me out. Don't throw your laptop out the window in anger, especially if it isn't insured. Hear me out on this.
In the intervening four years, I moved from Orange back to the San Gabriel Valley where I grew up. I attended a small nondenominational church that met every Sunday morning and evening in rented hall space at the West Covina Senior Citizens Center. I helped set up the stage, sound system and lighting, then took it down and packed it back into the pastor and worship leader's cars when the services ended. The congregation met at a senior citizens' center because it couldn't afford to buy or rent a proper church property or even office space.
The mobile nature of that small church taught me a practical lesson in the nature of the worldwide church and of worship itself. It doesn't consist of the building, but of the people. And unless the services are centered around the finished work of Jesus Christ as a ransom for our sins and on the faithful preaching of the Bible, then such worship is in vain and actually sinful. I had another mind-altering moment when I learned many small congregations in my current denomination, The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, also meet in rented hall space, portable buildings and even outdoors for the same reasons that little church in West Covina did.
If me back in 1998 could meet me today and learn I changed my mind on the Chapman chapel issue, I would kill myself. Back then I was indeed orthodox and biblical, but also very legalistic and militant about apologetics and purity of doctrine, to the point of being obnoxious. I did a little bit of growing up since then, having had a big dose of humility alongside learning about the grace of God for even a legalistic sinner like me.
That is why when Immanuel First seriously considered selling off its now-closed school property, it didn't hit me as emotionally as it did others who built that campus and whose children went to school there. Today Victory Outreach of West Covina is renting half of the school campus for its services and all is going well for both our fellowships.
At Chapman's interfaith center the Founders Chapel has been opened to all faiths, not just Christians as originally intended, and that is okay with me. It's a private university and can do whatever it wants. However, the evangelical Fellowship of Christian Athletes uses the property for its services and orthodox Christians are well represented here, even though everyone else would rather ignore them. And I am reminded of Jesus' own words in Matthew 18:20, "For where two or three gather together as my followers, I am there among them."
Showing posts with label legalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label legalism. Show all posts
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Rickrolled Christianity
They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I disagree with that because at church I have seen senior citizens give me a run for the money in their computer savvy. One of our elders, in his late 70's, likes to read books on his new iPad, while another uses an Amazon Kindle. A dear lady in her mid 90's was given the nickname "Go Go Grandma" by her grandchildren because of her active lifestyle and mastery of keeping up with even her great-great-grandchildren (they call her "Gigi") via email and social media.
Being a middle-aged dog, I too am still eager to learn new things. A few days ago I finally learned what the internet term "rickrolling" means. (Those 25 and under have my permission to laugh at me.)
Rickrolling is the modern-day equivalent of what used to be called a red herring or going off on a rabbit trail. It's essentially a practical joke. When you click on a link promising you something that arouses your interest, you land on something totally different or off-the-wall, such as Rick Astley's 1987 dance hit "Never Gonna Give You Up", which is how the term got its name. A poorly edited YouTube video will flash "stay tuned, it's coming" to keep you watching, then suddenly it jump-cuts to something off-the-wall (and often vulgar) with the Annoying Orange-like caption "HAAAA-ha! You've been rick-rolled!"
It got me thinking about how we Christians can easily be rickrolled spiritually. We start listening to and be attached to a particular preacher or Bible teacher because he or she seems to be teaching straight from the Bible or is bold and outspoken on cultural issues we deeply care about. The rickrolling then occurs when they begin declaring something off-the-wall theologically that we sense doesn't sound right. We check our Bible, ask other Christian friends about it, call the teacher to account for it, then decide whether or not to stay with that teacher based on their reaction.
But more often than not, we have become so attached to that Bible teacher that we set aside that disturbing rickroll as just a mistake or opinion, don't question it, and continue supporting them. The red flag is ignored and our God-given spirit of discernment is dulled. The next time it happens, we ignore it again, and again, to the point that we no longer question the Bible teacher at all but blindly continue to support him or her because of the assumed authority he or she has.
Before I came to Immanuel First, I attended Celebration Bible Church, a now-defunct independent church that met at the West Covina Senior Citizens Center every Sunday. I started going there because I knew a family that attended the church and the senior pastor helped me through some tough times. CBC was a grace-filled church that systematically taught through the Bible and welcomed people of all colors and walks of life. The senior pastor was a former Bloods gang member in West Covina whose dramatic conversion was featured on the TV program "The 700 Club", and his calling was to bring the Good News of Jesus Christ to gang members still caught in the lifestyle. With his assistant pastor, a former Crips gang member and now his best friend, the two were a dramatic testimony to how Jesus breaks down barriers of hate and prejudice.
But in the summer of the year 2000 CBC took a turn for the worse when the senior pastor claimed that while asking God why his little church wasn't growing beyond 15-20 members, he said God told him it was because he wasn't properly teaching them His Word. In supposed obedience to that revelation, the pastor added a "school of membership" for new members to be taught the essentials of the faith, "school of baptism" for converts who wanted to be baptized in the faith, a "school of ministry" for the leadership to be taught biblical theology, and the requirements for membership grew from three to seven as all of the above became essentials. The worship services became bizarre as the pastor was convinced that holding hands up in praise and loud shouts of thanksgiving was the "biblical" way of praising God. The few members CBC had began to drop out saying the church had become too legalistic, and one middle-aged woman accused it of being a cult. Ultimately I left CBC too on New Year's Eve 2000, escaping to Immanuel First the following Sunday after searching the Yellow Pages for local LCMS churches in my area.
I was spiritually rickrolled, and I got out in just the nick of time.
CBC ultimately folded a year later, as the senior pastor added voluntarily commitments such as avoiding TV, movies and eating meat for one week out of every month. That pastor is now in Miami leading a new church plant there, and I was disturbed to see on his church's website he still has an authoritarian, legalistic plan for growing his congregation. While he believes he is sincerely following God's will for his life and has been featured on Christian TV, his legalistic style left me disillusioned and confused.
Just this month other Christians were similarly rickrolled when Family Radio leader Harold Camping's highly publicized prediction of Judgment Day happening on May 21, 2011 failed to come true. For years these believers had listened to the Family Radio network because it broadcast beautiful sacred hymns and classical works along with readings from the King James Bible without commentary. Camping himself used to be orthodox in his theology until 1988, when he left his own church in Alameda, California over being questioned on date-setting Christ's second coming. As he descended into heresy and outright cultism, his listeners most likely also had red flags going off in their heads but ignored them because Family Radio as a whole seemed so wholesome and comforting, and maybe Camping was just wrong on this thing, and that thing, and that other thing... until they were conditioned into believing anything he said because of his assumed authority.
It is so easy for us to become attached to Christian leaders rather than Christ himself because we want someone to tell us what is right and wrong, how to read and interpret the Bible, and essentially how to live our lives in a right way. I see it in the huge followings of Oprah Winfrey, Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Dr. Laura and any other pop "Dr." on TV, and I am witnessing the depression and withdrawals many women are now going through since "Oprah" has now ended its 25-year run in syndication. I also see it in the thousands if not millions who follow not only Harold Camping, but Joel Olsteen, Joyce Meier, John Hagee and other "Word of Faith" preachers who promise freedom from pain, guarantee perfect health and wealth, or in Hagee's case bellow out angry judgment against Democrats and liberals of all stripes.
But when we follow a person instead of God's Word and not discern that person's theology, we are allowing ourselves to be spiritually rickrolled. God gave us brains to use, and since "the human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked" (Jeremiah 17:9), we must learn not to blindly follow every feel-good wind or wave of doctrine (James 1:6) and instead use the Bible to vet and check anything from the pulpit that sends up those red flags.
Having been repeatedly rickrolled (or Rich-rolled in my case) spiritually, I naturally have a sense of skepticism and even cynicism about this matter. If it seems I am being too harsh or judgmental, that is not my intent and I apologize. But while rickrolling is a cute joke on YouTube, there is absolutely nothing funny about it when it happens in the walls of a church where people expect to be fed the solid Word of God and are instead getting arsenic-laced chocolate.
Being a middle-aged dog, I too am still eager to learn new things. A few days ago I finally learned what the internet term "rickrolling" means. (Those 25 and under have my permission to laugh at me.)
Rickrolling is the modern-day equivalent of what used to be called a red herring or going off on a rabbit trail. It's essentially a practical joke. When you click on a link promising you something that arouses your interest, you land on something totally different or off-the-wall, such as Rick Astley's 1987 dance hit "Never Gonna Give You Up", which is how the term got its name. A poorly edited YouTube video will flash "stay tuned, it's coming" to keep you watching, then suddenly it jump-cuts to something off-the-wall (and often vulgar) with the Annoying Orange-like caption "HAAAA-ha! You've been rick-rolled!"
It got me thinking about how we Christians can easily be rickrolled spiritually. We start listening to and be attached to a particular preacher or Bible teacher because he or she seems to be teaching straight from the Bible or is bold and outspoken on cultural issues we deeply care about. The rickrolling then occurs when they begin declaring something off-the-wall theologically that we sense doesn't sound right. We check our Bible, ask other Christian friends about it, call the teacher to account for it, then decide whether or not to stay with that teacher based on their reaction.
But more often than not, we have become so attached to that Bible teacher that we set aside that disturbing rickroll as just a mistake or opinion, don't question it, and continue supporting them. The red flag is ignored and our God-given spirit of discernment is dulled. The next time it happens, we ignore it again, and again, to the point that we no longer question the Bible teacher at all but blindly continue to support him or her because of the assumed authority he or she has.
Before I came to Immanuel First, I attended Celebration Bible Church, a now-defunct independent church that met at the West Covina Senior Citizens Center every Sunday. I started going there because I knew a family that attended the church and the senior pastor helped me through some tough times. CBC was a grace-filled church that systematically taught through the Bible and welcomed people of all colors and walks of life. The senior pastor was a former Bloods gang member in West Covina whose dramatic conversion was featured on the TV program "The 700 Club", and his calling was to bring the Good News of Jesus Christ to gang members still caught in the lifestyle. With his assistant pastor, a former Crips gang member and now his best friend, the two were a dramatic testimony to how Jesus breaks down barriers of hate and prejudice.
But in the summer of the year 2000 CBC took a turn for the worse when the senior pastor claimed that while asking God why his little church wasn't growing beyond 15-20 members, he said God told him it was because he wasn't properly teaching them His Word. In supposed obedience to that revelation, the pastor added a "school of membership" for new members to be taught the essentials of the faith, "school of baptism" for converts who wanted to be baptized in the faith, a "school of ministry" for the leadership to be taught biblical theology, and the requirements for membership grew from three to seven as all of the above became essentials. The worship services became bizarre as the pastor was convinced that holding hands up in praise and loud shouts of thanksgiving was the "biblical" way of praising God. The few members CBC had began to drop out saying the church had become too legalistic, and one middle-aged woman accused it of being a cult. Ultimately I left CBC too on New Year's Eve 2000, escaping to Immanuel First the following Sunday after searching the Yellow Pages for local LCMS churches in my area.
I was spiritually rickrolled, and I got out in just the nick of time.
CBC ultimately folded a year later, as the senior pastor added voluntarily commitments such as avoiding TV, movies and eating meat for one week out of every month. That pastor is now in Miami leading a new church plant there, and I was disturbed to see on his church's website he still has an authoritarian, legalistic plan for growing his congregation. While he believes he is sincerely following God's will for his life and has been featured on Christian TV, his legalistic style left me disillusioned and confused.
Just this month other Christians were similarly rickrolled when Family Radio leader Harold Camping's highly publicized prediction of Judgment Day happening on May 21, 2011 failed to come true. For years these believers had listened to the Family Radio network because it broadcast beautiful sacred hymns and classical works along with readings from the King James Bible without commentary. Camping himself used to be orthodox in his theology until 1988, when he left his own church in Alameda, California over being questioned on date-setting Christ's second coming. As he descended into heresy and outright cultism, his listeners most likely also had red flags going off in their heads but ignored them because Family Radio as a whole seemed so wholesome and comforting, and maybe Camping was just wrong on this thing, and that thing, and that other thing... until they were conditioned into believing anything he said because of his assumed authority.
It is so easy for us to become attached to Christian leaders rather than Christ himself because we want someone to tell us what is right and wrong, how to read and interpret the Bible, and essentially how to live our lives in a right way. I see it in the huge followings of Oprah Winfrey, Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Dr. Laura and any other pop "Dr." on TV, and I am witnessing the depression and withdrawals many women are now going through since "Oprah" has now ended its 25-year run in syndication. I also see it in the thousands if not millions who follow not only Harold Camping, but Joel Olsteen, Joyce Meier, John Hagee and other "Word of Faith" preachers who promise freedom from pain, guarantee perfect health and wealth, or in Hagee's case bellow out angry judgment against Democrats and liberals of all stripes.
But when we follow a person instead of God's Word and not discern that person's theology, we are allowing ourselves to be spiritually rickrolled. God gave us brains to use, and since "the human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked" (Jeremiah 17:9), we must learn not to blindly follow every feel-good wind or wave of doctrine (James 1:6) and instead use the Bible to vet and check anything from the pulpit that sends up those red flags.
Having been repeatedly rickrolled (or Rich-rolled in my case) spiritually, I naturally have a sense of skepticism and even cynicism about this matter. If it seems I am being too harsh or judgmental, that is not my intent and I apologize. But while rickrolling is a cute joke on YouTube, there is absolutely nothing funny about it when it happens in the walls of a church where people expect to be fed the solid Word of God and are instead getting arsenic-laced chocolate.
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