Yesterday I met a stranger to the Christian faith story, someone that does not believe in (any) God. We did not talk about religion or Christianity, instead we small talked about the country, Africa, crime, cycling and work. Afterwards I imagined the conversation going a bit deeper, towards him asking me why I am a Christian.
Why do I (try to) believe? I will leave the "what" for another doubtful day.
Why bother with religion, faith, church and God?
My answer will probably sound soppy, but just bear with me for a moment.
If not for Jesus son of Mary and Joe (and eventually "son of God") I could not have cared less about faith. The last few months I read the four Gospels' account of the life, death and new life of Jesus the Jew from Nazareth. The more I think, contemplate and allow the stories about Jesus to shape my everyday spiritual imagination, the more hopeful I get about knowing God.
Here was someone who got life right, in such a way that his friends (and even family!) experienced his way of life as the Way of God (also known as the coming of the kingdom of God). Even after his death, or especially after his death did the picture he drew about humanity and God bacame so clear that his friends (and family) believed him to be alive again. Some of them had the gift of (re)telling the stories about his life in such a way that it kicked started a revolution of faith. From all walks of life people joined the movement in the direction of a new way of being human.
Because of the way Jesus lived and died, a new world is possible.
It took me a long time to believe in this "new world". I got stuck in the ways of religion and culture, but through the stories told by Mark, Matthew, Luke and John Jesus rescued me from the mundane ways of religiosity and the selfishness of consumer humanity.
I (try to) believe because I see it to be the only way to reconnect with what it means to be truly human.
Friday, 19 February 2010
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Christian imagination
The last two weeks I’d been having different conversations about following Jesus. Most of the time we ended on a very hopeful and inspiring note, but in almost all of the conversations there was a moment when we felt stuck, as if we have reached a dead end in terms of what it means to be a “disciple” aka a follower of Jesus. As I am writing these words, I again feel the slight frustration I felt during the conversations.
Why do I struggle to follow Jesus?
Because it is hard, tough, tricky and dangerous? Sure.
But the above were not the reasons for the dead end feeling during the conversations. In fact the above stuff did more to spice up the conversation than to discourage it.
The dead end was created by something else: Our Christian imagination. The way we think, dream, hope, talk, pray and listen to/about the calling of Christ.
It has been high jacked by years of church.
When we hear: “Follow me” we immediately think: Church, bible, outreach programmes and worship services. We hear the words “full time ministry” and we tend to think that priests and pastors are “called” in a more special way than people with “working jobs”. Eventually we end up with a very fuzzy imagination about what it means to follow Jesus in the 21st century.
A friend of mine is part of a faith community in the suburbs of Cape Town. A year ago a theology student volunteered to work full time the community, helping out with day to day stuff. The first conversation that my friend had with the student was about his Christian imagination. At the end he told him: “Before we give you any responsibilities, we first have to detox your imagination, because it has been contaminated by too much church.”
Sometimes we need to "unchurch" or faith journey so that we can reimagine the way of Jesus.
Why do I struggle to follow Jesus?
Because it is hard, tough, tricky and dangerous? Sure.
But the above were not the reasons for the dead end feeling during the conversations. In fact the above stuff did more to spice up the conversation than to discourage it.
The dead end was created by something else: Our Christian imagination. The way we think, dream, hope, talk, pray and listen to/about the calling of Christ.
It has been high jacked by years of church.
When we hear: “Follow me” we immediately think: Church, bible, outreach programmes and worship services. We hear the words “full time ministry” and we tend to think that priests and pastors are “called” in a more special way than people with “working jobs”. Eventually we end up with a very fuzzy imagination about what it means to follow Jesus in the 21st century.
A friend of mine is part of a faith community in the suburbs of Cape Town. A year ago a theology student volunteered to work full time the community, helping out with day to day stuff. The first conversation that my friend had with the student was about his Christian imagination. At the end he told him: “Before we give you any responsibilities, we first have to detox your imagination, because it has been contaminated by too much church.”
Sometimes we need to "unchurch" or faith journey so that we can reimagine the way of Jesus.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Jesus is not my boyfriend
"Jesus lover of my soul, Jesus I will never let you go..." I used to sing this song at the top of my voice back in my crazy charismatic days. I thought that this is what following Jesus is all about. The touchy, feely, needy stuff that makes you all warm inside and glowy on the outside.
I guess it's OK if that's the way you fly your religious kite.
But things have changed for me the last few years.
Jesus is not my boyfriend anymore.
He is the rebel Prophet, son of God in whos footstep I blindly stumble. There is nothing romantic about following Jesus. With him nothing is fuzzy and fluffy. It is always grounded, solid, real and truthful. It cuts straight through my cultural bullshit and gets to the heart of what (my) life can look like.
A few months ago I blogged about a book called The Irresistible Revolution. The writer, Shane Claiborne wrote that Jesus wrecked him.
Wrecked?
That's not what you expect from "Boyfriend Jesus". No, "Boyfriend Jesus" soothes the soul, warms the heart and puts a little band aid on your scratch mark.
The other Jesus, the one I struggle to understand, describe or get to grips with sends you out into the wilderness like lambs among wolves, he gives you a cross (though lighter than the burden of the world) and then he measures your character and faith with the help of the poor and the hungry.
I guess it's OK if that's the way you fly your religious kite.
But things have changed for me the last few years.
Jesus is not my boyfriend anymore.
He is the rebel Prophet, son of God in whos footstep I blindly stumble. There is nothing romantic about following Jesus. With him nothing is fuzzy and fluffy. It is always grounded, solid, real and truthful. It cuts straight through my cultural bullshit and gets to the heart of what (my) life can look like.
A few months ago I blogged about a book called The Irresistible Revolution. The writer, Shane Claiborne wrote that Jesus wrecked him.
Wrecked?
That's not what you expect from "Boyfriend Jesus". No, "Boyfriend Jesus" soothes the soul, warms the heart and puts a little band aid on your scratch mark.
The other Jesus, the one I struggle to understand, describe or get to grips with sends you out into the wilderness like lambs among wolves, he gives you a cross (though lighter than the burden of the world) and then he measures your character and faith with the help of the poor and the hungry.
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