Reasons Why

If you haven't heard, last week President Obama named gay-rights activist Harry Knox to the Advisory Council on Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships.  Days later, House Republican Conference Chairman Mike Pence called on President Obama to remove Knox from the council.  Why?

"Appointing a man who has publicly attacked the pope and other religious leaders for their support of traditional marriage is deeply offensive to millions of Americans in the faith-based community he is appointed to serve," said Pence in a statement.

The remarks that Pence is referring to seem to relate to his role as a gay-rights activist.  He said the Knights of Columbus "were foot soldiers of a discredited army of oppression," referring to the knights' support of a California state amendment that overturned same-sex marriages.  He spoke out against the pope's statement that condoms increase the spread of AIDS.  Knox also challenged President Obama's decision to have conservative Pastor Rick Warren give the inaugural invocation because of Warren's stance on marriage.  This is pretty regular stuff for a gay-rights activist.

What I don't understand is why Pence would call for the removal of a man who was acting in accordance with his beliefs as an activist.  As a congressman who applies his beliefs to such political hot-topics as gay marriage and abortion, why would he be so against another person who is doing the same?

On his Web site Pence describes himself as "'a Christian, a conservative and a Republican,' in that order."  His voting record shows that since September Pence has voted the party line in all but three cases, according to the Washington Post's voting database.  He has only missed 4 percent of over 5,000 votes.  It seems to me that the man is a fairly regular party member.  This makes me think that perhaps the comments he made regarding Knox have more to do with his stance as a Christian Republican and less to do with what Knox said.

Which makes me wonder, how many Christians--republican or otherwise--say or believe something simply because they are expected to?  Easter was this week, and I have never seen parking lots so full at churches.  How many of those attending were simply paying up on fire insurance?  

There's a movie I love called "Saved."  It's a high school drama, but it's set in a private Christian school.  The two main characters are former best friends.  One gets pregnant, the other gets critical.  As the movie progresses, the critical one becomes increasingly harsh, even attempting an exorcism on her pregnant friend.  She eventually begins to question herself; not her faith, but her actions.  Why was she doing what she was doing?

I feel that this is a question that is not asked often enough in churches.  So often there is a large emphasis on the action itself but relatively little emphasis on internal motivation past "because God said so."  Perhaps if we Christians knew why we did what we did, we could have a more open dialogue about why others don't.  Otherwise, we're doomed to condemn others who don't agree with us.  There are enough finger pointers in the world.  Let's not get mixed up with them.

My Inspiration, part 2

Alright, then, where did I leave off?  Oh, yes.  At the age of twelve (or was it thirteen?) I had unknowingly been inspired to get involved in church ministries and leadership.

The next few years were a mess of high school, teenage love and personal discovery.  I read the Bible straight through by the time I was 14 and had my first mega-church experience by 15.  When I was 16 I joined my youth group's leadership team.  I graduated when I was 17 and started working at my church's day care center on my 18th birthday.  I did a college internship at 19 and spent a year away from my home, my family and my God.  I moved back home when I was 20, and I met the love of my life.  Six months later, we married and moved to Ohio.  That's when all the fun started.

A pastor friend of ours had invited us to volunteer in his small inner-city church, and we had agreed.  My husband and I arrived in Ohio on a rainy Sunday morning.  We had a red Jetta, a compact Mazda truck and asmall trailer packed full of all our worldly possessions.  (Okay, so the trailer was an old pickup bed with a plywood floor.)  Neither one of us had cell phones; it was a miracle we stayed together over the three-state drive!  To me and my husband, it seemed that God's favor was shining on us.  Rather, it seemed to until we realized we had no job, no home and no prospect of either in the near future.  Unsure of our fate and questioning our better judgement, we went with our friend to a house-church service that night.

I had never seen such a thing in my life.  Nearly two dozen people had gathered in a parsonage to light candles, sing worship songs and share their praises, prayers and struggles with each other.  Even now, the closest thing I can compare it to is the church described in Acts 2.  It was a living, breathing, beautiful thing.  Though we were new, my husband and I felt comfortable.  We felt welcome.  We felt like we belonged.

After the music and the devotion, there was a time of open prayer.  The people who had gathered shared their hearts with each other, not just their words.  Moved by the warm reception we had received, my husband and I shared our no-job-or-place-to-live-or-stay story.  We received the group's prayers and finished the night's activities.  Soon after the final prayer was spoken, I was approached by one of the women.  She and her husband had heard our story.  They invited us to stay the night at their house.  We were strangers to them, and they opened their home to us based on the fact that we were trying to follow God.  I am still amazed at their kindness.  We continued to worship with that group for months.

A couple weeks later, we found a place to stay and we each had jobs.  However, we were out of money, and we wouldn't receive our first paychecks for at least three weeks.  Not knowing what to do, we brought our need before the house church.  Again, we received prayer and finished the night not knowing the answer.  One of the members even spoke with my husband afterwards, wishing us well.

When we got home that night my husband pulled a small rectangular paper from his pocket.  "Hey, that guy I spoke to gave me this check, but I don't know what it's for," he told me.  He unfolded the paper, and we both gasped.  The check was for $300.  Apparently, the man had an account set aside from his regular funds.  Not a savings account, exactly.  I was told it was a "God account."  That money lasted exactly until my first paycheck.

Since moving to Ohio, I have seen the inner-workings of small inner city churches.  Over the past five years, I have seen the passion of pastors, the wisdom of district leaders and the foolishness of their replacements.  I have witnessed a successful church merger and a struggling church renewal.  I've had a neighbor who was homeless and a neighbor who won the lottery, and both were more genuine than some of the leaders I've encountered.

I've seen the lost, the confused and the hungry both on the streets and in the church.  Though I've done what I know how to do, sometimes I feel like it's not enough.  Too often the individual Christ followers and Christ seekers are lost in the trenches of American Christian heirarchy.  This is what I want to address.  This is what I want to change.

It seems to me that the best thing I can do is be a clear voice in the madness of doctrine and dogma.  As a preacher's wife and non-profit secretary, I see what happens behind the scenes.  I believe that I can use my perspective to address issues and events in the American church.  I do not assume to have all (or even any) answers.  That would be very arrogant of me.  I simply hope to bring attention to the good, the bad and the godly.

I would like to ask my readers to keep me on my toes.  If at any point I fail to uphold the purpose of this blog, please let me know.  I would hate to act or speak in a way that is contrary to my passion.  Have a wonderful upcoming Easter weekend, and I will begin regular posting soon.

My Inspiration, part 1

Hello!  My name is Meagan, and I want to change the world.  Specifically, I want to impact the way Christians in America look at their faith.  More than that, I want to challenge and inspire Christians to take their faith more seriously.  Radically ambitious, somewhat arrogant, and fairly unpleasant, I know.  But it's my passion, and I'd like to share it with you.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.  Perhaps an explanation (or exploration) of what motivates me is in order.

My story begins with a good old-fashioned Baptist business meeting.  I was twelve or thirteen, and immensely curious why so many people (myself included)  would show up for such a boring night.  I soon found out.

The pastor was up for a raise, and two hundred people had gathered to determine his fate.  Pre-meeting murmurs filled the sanctuary with discourse.  The pastor stood before the church, mentioned the three microphones available for open commentary, and left the sanctuary.

As quickly as the pastor had left, a bearded man made his way towards the center mic.  Immediately he began attacking the idea of giving his spiritual leader a raise.  A few voices sounded their agreement.  In fact, he continued, the church was paying him too much already.  More voices spoke, louder than before.  Encouraged, the bearded man made his final point: Why should a man who works only 52 days a year get a penny more of his hard-earned money?

Now, I was young and not yet versed in the social etiquette of Baptist business, but I was livid.  Something in my soul knew that those man's words were not fair.  But I was just a kid, and I didn't know how to process my feelings into action.  So I sat in my pew fuming, screaming in my head "You're wrong!  Take it back!"

A white-haired man then stood to speak.  He was older, a deacon, a man even I knew commanded respect.  As he approached the mic nearest me, the crowd quieted.  My spirit quivered.  His steady voice spoke gently, but firmly.

"A pastor," he said, "does not work 52 days a year.  In fact, the least amount of work happens on Sundays.  The time, energy and love our pastor puts into comforting those who are sick and ministering to those who are broken is more than any of us could imagine.  It's easily 50 hours or more a week.  The question is not whether he deserves the raise.  The question is whether we can afford to repay him just some of the kindness he has shown to our congregation and to our community."

My soul rejoiced that night.  Somebody wiser than I had expressed the words I could not say.  (Oh, yeah, and the pastor got the raise.)  I didn't know it then, but that night sparked in me a desire to be involved  in ministries and leadership that has, thus far, lasted more than a dozen years.  (Heck, I even married a youth pastor!)  However, as this first blog is already twice as long as it should be, I'll leave off here for now.  I'll explain (explore) more in part two.