TEDxMileHigh

TEDxMileHigh

On November 11 I will be one of the speakers at TEDxMileHigh Wonder. I will join 5,000 of my closest friends in a day of fascinating conversations about big ideas. I have been able to spend time with most of the speakers, and this is gonna be fun.

The Wonder event will be held at Bellco Theater at the Colorado Convention Center. As of this writing, there are still seats remaining, though they do expect it to be sold out.  http://tedxmilehigh.com

How did I come to speak at a large TEDx event? Unlike most speakers, I did not apply. Back in April, Michael Hidalgo, lead pastor at Denver Community Church, and I did an interview with Ryan Warner on Colorado Matters, a popular show on Colorado Public Radio. That interview resulted in CPR taking an interest in my July sermon at DCC.  After I preached, CPR  asked to play a portion of my message on Colorado Matters. That  got the attention of one of the curators at TEDxMileHigh.

It has been fascinating to see how much work the leaders do to ensure a great day for the TEDx attendees. Each speaker has a coach, and the coordinators weigh in heavily on every aspect of your presentation. At a little over two weeks out, I am on draft 14 of my talk. Just for the sake of comparison, my typical blog goes through about five edits and my typical sermon goes through seven or eight. The folks at TEDxMileHigh have high expectations. That is one of the reasons their events sell out.

I cannot help but compare my sermon preparation to this TEDx experience. Part of the reason I love preaching at Highlands Church is because the bar is high. Both of our preaching pastors, Jenny Morgan and Mark Tidd, work long and hard on their sermons. Their good work makes itself known. I want the sermons I preach at Highlands to be at the level of excellence they routinely attain.  I put a lot of hours into my sermons.

In the typical Roman Catholic Church, the sermon (they call it a homily) is not that big a deal.  A homily gets maybe an hour’s worth of work on a Saturday evening.  It shows.  Sermons are more important in Protestant churches.  They are the central part of the service, and last anywhere from 20 to 50 minutes. I usually preach between 21 and 23 minutes. No one complains about a short sermon.

There are some interesting peculiarities about evangelical preaching. A lot of preachers “borrow” a sermon that has already been preached by a megachurch preacher.  They do not give proper attribution.  Preaching someone else’s sermon and not admitting it has became a common practice in the evangelical church.  I have thoughts about that.  I have never preached another pastor’s outline, let alone the entire sermon.

I have noticed men tend to overestimate the quality of their sermons, while women tend to underestimate theirs. Just an observation.

Since I did not apply to speak for TEDx, it was difficult to decide what direction to go with my talk.  I thought about speaking about how the evangelical church responds to LGBTQ issues.  I also thought about telling my story, in all of its raw truth.  Ultimately,  I decided to speak about the differences between experiencing life as a male and as a female in America. It’s been fun writing my talk.  If you live in Denver, I’d love it if you came.  Friendly faces in the audience would be nice.  (Sorry, but I don’t have any more discounted tickets.)

I am really looking forward to speaking at TEDxMileHigh, though I am not particularly nervous about the talk. I have spoken to large audiences before, both as Paul and as Paula. I’m old enough that if it goes well, great. If it doesn’t, no one dies.

And so it goes.

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Oh, Those Walls…

Oh, Those Walls…

I spent much of my life hiding. I worked with others who were also hiding. Some were hiding from their sexual or gender identity, but most were hiding from their own intelligence, their inquisitive minds, or the awakening awareness they knew things they did not want to know. You could see fear in their eyes.

Evangelicalism tells you truth is abstract and knowable. Once known, it can be categorized, catalogued and encased in reinforced concrete. We dust off our hands and say, “Okay, that one’s taken care of. What is the next truth I can polish off?” What we don’t realize is like Poe’s Cask of Amontillado, with each concrete brick we are being walled off from real life, with all of its radiant mystery. The cruel bricklayer is our own theology. We are cutting off the oxygen we need to breathe, and guaranteeing an early demise, figuratively if not literally.

Many people are so walled off they only get half of themselves out of bed in the morning, their stored abstract truths like a weight on the better half of themselves. It works out in some perverse way because the life they have crafted is so bland only half of one’s self is necessary to live it. So they shuffle through, day after day, 401k secure, but soul as dry as stale bread.

I know an older evangelical who is bedfast, though without physiological reason. A bone was broken, but when it had healed sufficiently enough to resume an ambulatory life, this poor soul didn’t have it in them to rise up and walk. It has now been so long that the person couldn’t walk if they wanted to. I often wonder about the reason. Was there some complex trauma of which I am unaware, or was it nothing more than the cumulative effect of stifled curiosity?

The desire for safety and security is powerful. The desire to be a dutiful member of a lifelong tribe is strong. I am living proof of what happens if you dare to stand and walk on your own. The tribe is brutal and unforgiving. In my case, I was virtually annihilated.

Let’s be clear. I did not fundamentally disobey the teaching of Scripture, not even if you start with an evangelical hermeneutic. My true sins are of the common variety, not the type that result in rejection. Some have attempted mental gymnastics to invent a more traditional reason for my banishment, but you don’t have to scratch very deeply to see the ruse.

My memory was banished because I was uncomfortably different. That was my unforgiveable sin. My banishment says to others who are curious or committed to living authentically, “Look very carefully at the empty space where she once existed. This could happen to you.” No wonder most stay behind those reinforced walls.

I understand if my experience gives you pause. Leaving a tribe is not for everyone. The journey is easier if you feel a strong sense of call. Should you feel that call, that defiant nevertheless, I can assure you there is life on the other side of evangelical orthodoxy. And that life is redemptive and beautiful and good, full of important work in the ministry of reconciliation.

And so it goes.

By Their Fruit I Came to Trust Them

By Their Fruit I Came to Trust Them

Three weeks ago it was my privilege to be at the meeting of the Union of Affirming Christians – a Faithful Coalition for LGBTQ Equality at Union Seminary in New York City. The conference was under the capable leadership of Josh Dickson, Fred Davie and Derrick Harkins. For two days, 25 of us talked about the need for LGBTQ equality in the evangelical world.

The meeting was a reminder of how much my world has changed over the past few years. For most of my evangelical life I was in the company of leaders who were almost all straight white evangelical males. At the Union meeting straight white men were a decided minority.

Those attending the Union conference have had ample opportunities to spend time with people of varied backgrounds. That has been one of the most refreshing aspects of my new church world. For the most part, those with whom I worked in my previous life came from the same background. I did not encounter gay clergy. I did not interact with women who were pastors, seminary presidents or non-profit CEOs. I interacted with very few people of color.

The beginnings of my own interaction with warm, intelligent, loving non-evangelicals began in my childhood in Akron, Ohio. It continued after I moved to New York and was surrounded by people who did not know an evangelical from a kumquat. These people were intelligent, well educated and accepting. By their fruit I came to trust them. They loved well. Proximity promotes understanding.

I believe those with whom I worked in my previous ministries were good and devoted people. The majority also lived in silos. While being in close proximity promotes understanding, living in silos promotes prejudice. The world I now inhabit is much larger than my previous world. It has been enlightening.

As is most often the case in my new life, the people with whom I worked three weeks ago were not particularly interested in my gender. I am not the first transgender person in their lives. They were far more interested in my knowledge about the evangelical church. They are accustomed to being with people of varied backgrounds. They are not accustomed to spending time with evangelicals, primarily because evangelicals show little interest in spending time with them.

Occasionally I am asked to speak in evangelical environments. I am never invited to speak about the expertise I gained over four decades in ministry. They only want to know about my gender identity. If I am at an educational institution, monitors are in the classroom to pull me from the lectern, should they not like my comments. If I am at a church, the venue is chosen for the ease with which people can choose to make an unobtrusive exit.

I have chosen to place myself in those environments for the primary reason that proximity does promote tolerance. And I appreciate the opportunity. I know those institutions pay a price when they ask me to come. But invariably I must do so at my own expense, and my financial generosity has its limits. I cannot continue to self-fund a one-person campaign to educate evangelicals.

One of the harder lessons of the Union meeting was being reminded of my white privilege. Eighty percent of those in attendance were white, and we knew that was not all right. But I was grateful to at least be in an environment in which that was painfully acknowledged.

I still miss my old friends. Losing their friendship is one of the most painful losses of my life, devastating really. But there is nothing I can do about those losses. When they ask to meet with me, we meet. But not many ask. (The only time I refuse a meeting is when I am being invited to an interrogation, not a conversation. I have no interest in being ambushed.)

Difficult as those losses have been, I am grateful for my new world of wounded healers and faithful questioners. They are fresh air for my tired lungs. Those friendships remind me of the words that close David Whyte’s poem, Sweet Darkness:

The world was made to be free in

You must give up all worlds except the one to which you belong

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness

To learn that anything or anyone that does not bring you alive

Is too small for you

 

We Shrug Our Shoulders and Move On

We Shrug Our Shoulders and Move On

It is a rare rainy day in the foothills of the Rockies. The clouds are at about 5600 feet, just a few hundred feet above the surface of the earth. I awoke to golden leaves gracing the outer branches of the cottonwoods along the St. Vrain. The river flowed yesterday. It flows today. It will flow again tomorrow, after the clouds have lifted and the sun has returned. But something will be different.

There are malevolent forces in our midst. We saw them at Sandy Hook, and again at Pulse. Sunday night we saw them in Las Vegas. Over the last 20 years more than half of the mass killings in the world have occurred in the United States.

We act as though we are powerless against these forces, but the truth is we have decided to be powerless. We have decided to gasp at the bulletin, offer prayers over the headlines, then shrug our shoulders and move on. That’s not okay.

Don’t spin anything. Don’t even start with the rhetoric. If assault rifles were banned, the Sunday night massacre would not have happened. It is that simple.

There are 250 million adults in the United States, and only five million members of the NRA, the combined population of Brooklyn and Queens. No one at the NRA believes they are powerless. So why do the other 245 million of us believe we are powerless? Because most of the other 245 million Americans are not politically engaged, that’s why. And when you are not politically engaged, you are powerless.

Why can’t a new pro-life (in favor of severely restricting assault rifles) lobby emerge? Can’t the rest of America agree on this one issue? Apparently the answer to that question is a sorry no. Some of us are too comfortable. Some of us assume the odds are low that our family will be shot, and that’s enough for our self-centered selves. I’m afraid the bottom line is that those who fight so hard for the right to own assault weapons are more frightened than the rest of us.

They are frightened of our federal government. They are frightened of Blacks, immigrants, Hispanics, LGBTQ individuals and pretty much everyone who does not look like them. Frightened people who are already in power are very dangerous.

If the election of Barack Obama showed we live in a nation in which a highly competent Black man can be elected president, they decided to show us they still had enough votes to elect a highly incompetent white man as president.

They also want us to know they still hold enough power to make sure a crazy white man can get an assault rifle and kill innocent people. They would rather accept that reality than lose their political clout.

ISIS tried to claim credit for the Vegas shooting. We don’t need ISIS to bring us down. The fear of angry white men and the families they control is enough to bring us down. Creating threats that do not exist is their stock in trade. It keeps their base frightened and loyal. They know we are not afraid enough to truly unite to end their reign. So we will mourn for a few days, complain for few more, and Vegas will happen again.  I do not mean to sound callous.  I am just reporting an undeniable trend.

Here is what bothers me the most. Many of the frightened Americans who continue to allow these assault rifles to be painfully easy to acquire, as well as those who continue to deny civil rights to people of color, LGBTQ people, immigrants and refugees, are members of the fundamentalist and evangelical churches of which I was once a part. God forgive me for not speaking more strongly against their unjustified fears when I had the platform to do so.

And so it tragically goes.

Seriously, Not Literally

Seriously, Not Literally

If you’ve been following my recent blogs, I have written a good bit about theology. I’ve also used a couple of terms that might not be common to some of you, hermeneutics and exegesis. In a Christian context, both are terms describing how one approaches Scripture.

Exegesis refers to the process of studying a passage of Scripture contextually, syntactically, grammatically, historically and lexically. Hermeneutics is the philosophical and linguistic underpinnings of Biblical interpretation.  I will confine my comments to Biblical hermeneutics.

Hermeneutics is the lens through which we view the Bible. To understand the difference between the lens of evangelicalism and the lens of post-evangelical Christianity, an American government analogy is appropriate.

Today’s Supreme Court is divided into two camps. One camp is comprised of originalists, those who believe the US constitution should be interpreted according to its ordinary meaning at the time it was written. They believe it is therefore fixed, and not at all fluid. The other camp is comprised of non-originalists, those who believe the constitution is a living document and should be interpreted according to its meaning at the time it was written, but also according to the body of knowledge that has been attained since that time.

Evangelicals hold a view of Scripture akin to the view of the constitution held by the Supreme Court originalists.  They practice a hermeneutic that not only believes the Bible should be interpreted according to its meaning at the time it was written, they also believe its words, in the original copies of scripture, are without error. They interpret the words of Jesus that Scripture cannot be broken as a statement of its inerrant nature. We do not have the original manuscripts, so their argument is theoretical.

Not only do evangelicals believe Scripture should be interpreted according to the original meaning of the words, they also claim that approvals and prohibitions contained within those words are as binding today as they were when they were written. If the Bible prohibited homosexual relationships when it was written, that prohibition remains in force today.

The problem with this hermeneutic is two-fold. First, we do not understand exactly what is meant by the words Scripture uses for homosexual behavior, because adult consensual gay relationships were not commonly known in that era. Most homosexual behavior was with those unequal in power, men with boys.  That is a very different world than the one we experience today.

The second problem is that some issues in Scripture are treated very differently than others. With some issues, evangelicals readily accept that human knowledge gained since the time of the Bible takes precedence over what was understood to be true or acceptable in the first century.

Though the Bible suggests the sun revolves around the earth, we now know that is not true. Unfortunately the Roman Catholic Church did not understand that in the time of Galileo, who was placed under house arrest because of his rejection of a geocentric universe. Today, you will find nary an evangelical who holds to the notion of a geocentric universe. On that issue, they readily agree that current knowledge supersedes ancient understanding.

The same could be said of slavery, divorce and remarriage, women remaining silent in the church, and other subjects. Evangelicals readily make accommodation for the growth in human understanding on those subjects. For instance, though it was routinely done in the first century of our fledgling republic, you never hear evangelicals defending slavery in modern culture. Our increased understanding has caused us to redefine our interpretation of the Bible’s tolerance of slavery.

This inconsistency in how Scripture is interpreted is a problem. On slavery, there is broad agreement that today’s understanding supersedes the first century understanding. On the subject of homosexuality, however, evangelicals do not believe our current understanding should supersede the first century understanding.  By what criteria do they make that assumption?

People outside the Christian camp understand both issues to be matters of basic human rights. They see the inconsistency of the evangelical view, and it reinforces their belief Christianity itself is outdated.

Even Millennial evangelicals understand the problem. While only 36 percent of evangelicals are supportive of marriage equality, 51 percent of Millennial evangelicals are supportive of marriage equality. I believe within 10 to 20 years evangelicals will reach the tipping point on this subject, just as they did on slavery and a geocentric universe.

I do believe Jesus when he said Scripture can not be broken, though I do not know exactly what Jesus meant by that. Even the way in which the canon of Scripture was created was messy, not completed and generally accepted until the middle of the third century. That is the equivalent of America just now coming to a unified position on the actual words and sentences of the US constitution.

I take the Bible seriously.  I also take it too seriously to take it literally. It is a historical record of God’s work in the world. It is not a constitution. It is an inspired guide, helping us apply its principles in an ever-changing world.

What Did You Expect?

What Did You Expect?

When evangelical Christianity became a consumer religion focused on heaven as a commodity, it lost its soul. I suppose it might have been inevitable, since American Christianity never got off on the right foot. From the beginning, when it was equated with the Puritan work ethic, American evangelicalism was focused on religion as a transaction. Work hard, and you will receive your just reward.

From there it wasn’t hard to move toward a world in which Christianity became inextricably attached to our consumer culture, peddling heaven as the ultimate prize, purchased by our work ethic, church attendance, tithes, volunteer hours and the sacrifice of our savior to a demanding God.

Given that reality, should we be surprised when American Christianity fails to fight for the underprivileged? Conservative pundits say, “Why should we fight for a group that just won’t pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, like we did.” Of course what “we did” was often accomplished through opportunities not available to others. Turns out if we were white, male, straight, and from the right side of town, reaching for our bootstraps didn’t require much effort.

When the basic focus of religion is to save yourself from hell, your religion will be self-centered. Years ago I asked one of my employers, “What if we all go to heaven?” My employer’s answer was telling, “Then why would I bother being a Christian? What motivation would I have?” I imagine his reply would be more nuanced nowadays, but it would still have the same self-centered essence.

Evangelicalism failed to understand Christianity is a religion of transformation, not transaction. It failed to see Christianity as a way of life, not a system of beliefs. It did not realize Christianity does not exist for itself. It exists for the common good.

I have a unique position from which to understand the impact of this self-centered form of Christianity. I was a white male, unaware of the privilege granted to me by a religion that does not allow women into leadership. I was able to soar in my career, in part because half of the population had been removed from the equation.

Now I am a female who routinely makes her way through the world without being identified as transgender. Privilege remains, but it is noticeably less than what I experienced previously. And if I returned to evangelicalism, it would be worse. I would be denied my greatest joy – preaching. But I am still privileged. I am white, college-educated and live on the right side of town. Plus, I undeniably brought some of my male privilege with me.

But there is one more layer to my reality. When it comes time to look for work, it is necessary for me to reveal I am transgender. A cursory search of the Internet will turn up that information within 10 seconds, so I really have no choice. And that is when my privilege pretty much disappears.  The Puritan work ethic will get me absolutely nothing in today’s polarized society. Not many people want a transgender pastor, church consultant or pastoral counselor.

Of course the problem is not just within evangelicalism. It permeates our culture. A white male, well educated, can work hard and become a success. A woman can work harder and still be hindered by a glass ceiling. A transgender person can work as hard as she wants, but not much is going to happen. A transgender person of color does not stand a chance.

American Christianity should be the solution to this problem, but instead it has become one of the major contributors. It begins with the Puritan work ethic, with its white male patriarchal privilege. And in today’s political environment in which rights are being rescinded faster than 45 can tweet, the church’s silence is staggering.

I do wish I could go back and right the wrongs from earlier in my life, when I had the kind of power to bring about change more rapidly than I can bring it about today. But we only know what we know when we know it, and there is little to be gained by denying oneself grace.

I am worried about the evangelical church. I love it so much, but it has moved so far from the message of Jesus that it might not be able to regain its soul. Maybe a new kind of Christian must rise from the ashes, embodying the message of Jesus, that everything begins and ends in love.

And so it goes.

Yes, But Is It True?

Yes, But Is It True?

For the 500 years known as the Modern age, reason was king. Unfortunately, it was also held to a standard it could not bear. Despite the beliefs of Descartes, Locke, and the other philosophers who ushered in the Enlightenment, reason did not have the ability to deliver truth objectively. It could deliver something close to what is commonly called absolute truth, but as long as humans are involved, truth will never be completely objective.

As is often the case with religion, evangelicalism arrived late to the Modern age party. Once it arrived it became an enthusiastic participant. If you come from an evangelical background you have probably heard of the term inerrancy, a construct of the Modern age. Inerrancy is the belief the original autographs of scripture (which we do not have) were without error in every tiny respect. Scripture claimed no such thing for itself, but the evangelical adoption of modernity demanded it. One single error would lead to a slippery slope from which we could not recover. Such was the necessity when you embraced the notion of absolute truth.

Swinging pendulums have always played a leading part in the movement of history. A culture moves far to one extreme, then rides to the other. The discoveries of Quantum physics showed the impossibility of holding onto the notion of objective truth. Hard as we might try, the scientist, with his biases, gets in the way of absolute objectivity. Once that reality was firmly grasped, it wasn’t long before the pendulum started swinging again, and we moved from an age fixated on objective truth to a post-empirical age in which the existence of any kind of verifiable truth was questioned.  All supposed truth was seen as social construct.

According to an excellent article by Kurt Andersen in The Atlantic, this move away from the search for verifiable truth began in the 60s with the oft-repeated catch phrases of the Baby Boomers. Mantras such as “Do your own thing” or “It’s all relative,” commenced the swing. But it took the Internet to move the pendulum to warp speed.

Let’s say you believe the government adds subliminal mind-controlling technology to television broadcast signals. (According to Andersen’s article, 15 percent of Americans hold that belief, while an additional 15 percent believe it is possible.) Before the Internet you had to go to great difficulty to find others who agreed with you. Magazines that touted conspiracy theories were tiny and poorly circulated. Your idea was eventually dropped not only from lack of evidence, but because you couldn’t find a tribe that agreed with you.

The arrival of the Internet changed all of that. Today, if you want to believe the earth exists on the back of a turtle swimming in a giant ocean, you can find a group on the Internet that believes the same thing and has the “evidence” to prove it. This disregard for truth is maddening.

When our culture first began its journey away from truth, New York Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan started saying, “You are entitled to your own opinion. You are not entitled to your own facts.”

Just a couple of decades later we have a presidential spokesperson who speaks of “alternative facts” and a president who, when confronted with one of his too frequent lies, replies with a shrug, “Well, I read it on the Internet.”

The notion of truth is under attack, and leading the way is a rather surprising group, evangelicals. That’s right. The same evangelicals who hold to the notion of absolute truth when it comes to the inerrancy of scripture, embrace with enthusiasm a president who has publicly lied 2.5 times a day since taking office. Those same evangelicals deny both global warming and evolution, despite massive scientific evidence supporting both.

Evangelicals still embrace the idea of absolute truth when it suits them, but when it doesn’t, like when you preach about the statistical realities of your likelihood of a harsher prison sentence if you are a person of color, they cry, “Yeah, but statistics can say whatever you want them to say.” Well folks, you can’t have it both ways.

The proper response to realizing all truth is less than objective is not to abandon the notion of truth. All truth is not social construct. The proper response is to rigorously get as close to objective truth as is humanly possible. Truth matters, whether it is the truth of scripture, or the truth that LGBTQ people do not pose any kind of threat to the moral order of a society, or the truth that blacks do receive harsher prison sentences than whites.

Maybe one of the most concerning parts of this whole conversation is that I am well aware a lot of my readers have abandoned this post before they even got to this paragraph.  Discussions about truth seem esoteric or intellectual, and of no immediate concern.  It is a shame, because truth matters, greatly.

I spent much of my life aligned with the evangelical camp, but I was never comfortable with their commitment to “absolutes” and used to regularly get myself in trouble with more conservative folks for refusing to accept the doctrine of inerrancy.  What I see happening now, holding to inerrancy while having a complete disregard for verifiable truth in other areas, is not something I saw developing to this extreme.  Its arrival is disconcerting.

As for me, I  believe what Daniel Patrick Moynihan said remains true. “You are entitled to your opinion. You are not entitled to your own facts.”  It is truth that sets us free.

And so it goes.