Picture
Part 5 of my sabbatical adventure away from the Church entitled: "Church No More."


A little over two months ago I (an ordained minster who has gone to church my whole life) walked away from church– for three months. It is what I've decided to do with my sabbatical. You can read about my initial thoughts on
 my blog or on The Huffington Post. As the journey unfolds, I will be blogging about it in this series entitled, “Church No More.” I hope you will not only follow along, but add your voice to the reflection by commenting or joining the discussion on my FB page.


A little over two months ago, I decided I'd spend my three month sabbatical not going to church. Which might seem like a perfectly normal thing to do – except that I'm a minister. I've had some strange and wonderful experiences which I've written about, but possibly more strange and more wonderful than the experiences are the responses I've received.

From the very beginning the most frustrating response I get is not folks telling me I'll lose my faith if I leave church (and they have), or the ones telling me I can't begin to understand what it's like to be Spiritual But Not Religious (SBNR) in three short months (lots of those were also disturbingly aggressively worded), but rather the ones that say, “Oh, 'sabbatical!' Thanks. Now I have a word to call what I do! I stopped going to church years ago.”

“No!,” I'd think while unsuccessfully trying to figure out how to reach through my laptop screen and shake some sense into them, “You are not on sabbatical! The sabbatical I'm taking about has to do with taking a rest, not leaving. It's rest and recuperation – communion with God in a way that is restorative. It's not about leaving! Sheesh.”

More than two months into my sabbatical, I now have to say, “Boy was I wrong.” They are on sabbatical, more so than I am.

Sabbatical is about rest and recuperation. It is about communing with God in a restorative way. For a lot of church going people that is not the way they would describe Sunday mornings. I know it wasn't for me. Sure, it was at times. I certainly always looked forward to seeing people and we definitely experienced communion with God in the fellowship and worship we shared. Rest, however? Recuperation? A restorative experience? Uh, no.

“Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.” In the Protestant church, Sunday is our Sabbath, but there seems to be far too little sabbath in the Sabbath. While there are exceptions to the rule, for far too many people, going to church is a chore. There's nothing restful or restorative about it. However, there is a pretty good chance that someone will make a remark about how you are dressed or shoot a sideward glance at you because you are singing entirely too loud or do any number of surprisingly judgmental things while they presumably gather to learn how to follow the teachings of the one who taught “judge not” and “love your neighbor.”

And that's just the tip of the tension iceberg that Sunday morning has become. Try breaking the segregation barrier in most churches. Try helping out where you weren't asked to help. Try suggesting a new way to do outreach or invite a homeless person to worship. How about questioning the biblicalness of the Trinity or asking why Jesus seems a little different in the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of John? Ah! Feeling rested and restored yet?


 
 
Picture
I like the idea of Lent. While it is one of the oldest observations of the Christian Church, it seems particularly helpful for our very busy and very full modern lives.

The idea behind Lent is to take a look at our lives, to do an honest assessment of our journey to/toward/with God and to repent of the things that are distancing us from God – to turn away from those things. Considering how many things we have in our lives today, the distractions, the obstacles, that get between us and our ability to follow the teachings of Jesus, I just can't help but think that Lent may actually be more needed now than it has ever been. 

But I also have to say, I dread THAT question. You know the one. It pops up about this time every year. Say it with me, “What did you give up for Lent?” Ugghh. 

It has almost become a benchmark of righteousness. 

“I gave up alcohol.” 
“Oh. Well, I used to give up alcohol, but it was too easy. So, I'm also giving up meat and television.”

At times, it feels like a one-upsmanship of devotion. “I'll see your night-time glass of red wine and raise you red meat and the bliss of zoning out to American Idol.”

I know this game so well because I fell into that Lent trap many years ago. It just feels so right, so normal, so … self-righteously-holy. It got to the point one year that, and I kid you not, I gave up all beverages other than water, all meat, TV (except for the NCAA tournament – a boy's got his limits), sweets (except for my Birthday Cake – c'mon, it's my birthday!), late night snacks (even ones of the non-sweet persuasion), and I added daily exercise and daily devotions, increased my giving to charities and told at least one person a day how good they were at what they do.

Why so much? Well, I'd been giving up and adding things to my life during Lent for quite awhile. It was my understanding that a big part of doing it was to identify with the sacrifice that Jesus made for us (you know, atonement theology stuff). Each year the “giving up stuff” was easier and easier, and just felt like it wasn't much of a sacrifice. So, I went from easy things, to harder things, to adding as many harder things together as possible, in order to feel the sacrifice. (I actually did give up the NCAA tournament one year... AND my birthday cake – you have no idea how much I love cake).

Upon reflection and in all honesty, I think part of giving all that stuff up was also so that when THAT question was asked, even if I didn't “win” the righteousness game, I would at least finish strong.

Then one year for Lent, I gave up... Lent.