I have just come back from 8 days in Northern Ireland. It’s a fascinating place with breath taking natural beauty, friendly people, and, perhaps most famously, a difficult past. For the first couple of days my friend Debs and I went to stay on the stunning north coast, in Europe’s city of culture for 2013; Derry.

Among other things Derry is famous for being the most completely walled city in Europe, so the obvious thing to do on our first day was to walk the walls around the centre of the city, which sits perched on an oblong shaped hill next to the estuary. The centre of Derry itself is a wonderful mix of quaint little stores, grand old churches and medieval battlements.

As we were walking around we came across a statue by Anthony Gormley of two back to back cruciform figures, depicting the war and tensions between the Catholics and Protestants here in Northern Ireland, and reminding us of the other reason Derry is famous. This image was going to stay with me for the rest of the trip, but I was yet to find out how complicated this conflict was.

When we reached the top end of town, at the hill’s tallest point, we stood on the walls and looked down into the valley beyond and a sea of terrace-style homes punctuating only by a massive church, and an expansive graveyard on the opposite hill. As we looked closer we could see blocks of flats at the base of the hill with 3-4 storey high murals painted onto their sides. This area, we were told, was The Bogside.

Next day we made our way over, drawn by the monstrous art works. While we were taking pictures and walking around we came across a small group of guys painting a fresh mural onto the side of an apartment block. We walked over and struck up a conversation with, who we were about to discover were, ‘The Bogside Artists’. These were men who saw the troubles of the 70′s first hand, including being present at the ‘Bloody Sunday’ massacre where British troops opened fire, hitting 26 unarmed protesters.

They spoke for a while about the ‘oppression’ they still felt they lived under and how they didn’t feel like free people. The murals they were painting depicted scenes from the troubles, tactfully displaying themselves as the victims, the disenfranchised, and the underdogs.

Now I don’t know enough about the politics of the country to pass comment, but I will tell you that when I turned around, I felt some of that oppression. I walked over the road to a traffic circle in the middle of a busy intersection, with a monument a its centre. I stood there reading the names of those who had died in this struggle, surrounded on 3 sides by the tall murals which I suddenly realised all faced the point where I was standing; the site of the Bloody Sunday massacre. Behind me was the steep hill and imposing walls of the city centre, which represented the establishment for these Catholic inhabitants; that is the ‘protestant, English establishment’.

It was a powerful image.

The main purpose of the trip however was to attend a 4 day conversation with Peter Rollins, and others around the world who are interested in his books, on the subject of ‘Pyrotheology’ and the content of his new book ‘The Idolatry of God’. So after our jaunt up North exploring the rugged and rocky coast famous for it’s stark beauty, including the enigmatic ‘Giants Causeway’, we headed down to Belfast to settle in for four days of talks, interviews, gigs, performance art, workshops and pubs (philosophy and theology the Irish way).

Peter lives in the US at the moment but deliberately chose to host this event in Belfast where he grew up, and whose troubled streets provided the formative context for his thinking about existential doubt and how it relates to the journey of faith.

Day one saw us taking a tour of Belfast to get a feel for where we were. As we lumbered through traffic in an open-topped bus, bracing the cold, one of the first things we were shown was an ironically named ‘peace wall’. We were to see a few that day, but the first we were shown was a corrugated iron wall covered with graffiti which dissected a beautiful local park. These walls were erected to keep warring neighbours apart during the troubles. Our guide spoke of running battles through the park which often ended in injury, murder, burnt out houses, or all of the above, so these ‘peace walls’ acted as deterrents for the escalating violence, and served to separate communities with different ideologies and backgrounds, for both their sakes it seems.

The second wall we visited was far more imposing at probably 25-30 feet tall and covered in graffiti, much of it calling for peace and an end to the violence, and yet the windows of the houses near the walls were covered with steel mesh to protect them from the oft launched projectiles which make their way over the walls still.

In a city like this, one dimensional faith with simplistic answers has no place.

Something else which caught my eye were the Israeli and Palestinian flags which flew alongside the sectarian flags of the various neighbourhoods. The Catholic communities fly the Palestinian flag to express how they feel ostracised in a land their own by the invading Protestants and supporters of ‘English rule’, who unsurprisingly fly the Jewish flag to express their perceived right to be there. I had already experienced a sharp mental recall at the walls, with pictures of the monolithic concrete walls in Jerusalem, but I was surprised by the fact that Belfast had adopted another conflict to express their own.

It seems ‘a wall’ is a universal idea which travels well, because it expresses a very human propensity: ‘Othering’.

Obviously there are strong parallels with South Africa as well, and likely countless other hot spots around the world where walls have gone up, people have been separated, and ‘others’ have been created out of neighbours.

With all this imagery in mind we went into a series of talks and interviews, and at one point during the week we were sitting in a pub and listening to Pete talk about ‘creating others’. He spoke about our human need to divide, label and diminish in order to provide us with identity, and legitimise our position. My initial thought was, “well I am self aware enough to have that under control at this stage. I mean look how enlightened and egalitarian I am.” Then he dropped in that making ‘others’ out of conservatives wasn’t helpful either. I felt myself tense up at that because I assumed that to create an ‘other’ out of those with power is somehow justified, but of course it isn’t.

I even felt the need to put up my hand at one point and remind the room that we should still oppose those in power, on a ‘systems level’, when they oppress others. I knew as I said it that, whilst it may have been true, the comment came from a defensive place. I have been hurt by conservatives, and somewhere in the mix is a desire to make ‘others’ of them because it makes me feel superior; more enlightened; better.

We all play this game with some group or another in our lives.

I heard a stand up comedian a while ago talking about this. He said, “Everyone hates their neighbour”. When I lived in Bergvliet in Cape Town, they would make fun of the people in Fishoek. The English Southern Suburbs would make fun of the Afrikaans Northern Suburbs living behind the `Boerewors Curtiain’. The West Rand mocked the East Rand in Johannesburg. Hilton mocked Howick in Kwazulu Natal. And these are obviously the less insidious divisions in South Africa. I am realising that London is infinitely more complicated when it comes to people defining areas and creating ‘others’, but there are some bullet proof walls here too. It seems everywhere you go human beings are quick to form in and out groups.

The comic joked that the only way we will ever have world peace is when aliens invade and we have no more time to keep up our divisive practices. We will have to band together.

So whether it’s race, gender, creed, culture, age, ideology, or praxis we use to create our walls, at some point we have to look into ourselves and our prejudices. But more than just identifying our bigoted attitudes and where they may come from in specifics, we have to look at our general habit of creating outsiders in the first place.

I know, for me, it makes me feel powerful. If I can belittle someone else, or some other group, it makes me feel superior. It somehow suggests that maybe I am a better human being; more right, more just in my cause, more true. Sometimes I focus on the way I think I am better, stronger, more powerful, more intelligent, more enlightened… and sometimes I play the victim by telling myself that those who have the upper hand are less just, or have less integrity. Don’t be fooled by how subtle this is, and how often it likely happens in your day. It’s probably true that you can’t see your own propensity for this human habit, but it’s there. I have some bullet proof psychological armour which protects me from the pathetic game I am really playing, so it needs to be a daily choice to take that armour off and acknowledge what I’m doing.

It takes Grace.

Because I suppose the opposite of this ‘othering’ is Grace; something which came up again and again over our week together in Belfast. At one point Pete defined it as “Accepting that you’re accepted”. Being accepted is one thing, but many of us don’t live like this is true, probably because of the unforgiving world we live in. It seems to me though that the moment you are able to grab onto that acceptance of being accepted you are able to give it out freely as well. The need to ‘other’ falls away.

I think it will take some brave individuals to discover Grace for themselves, ignore the engrained ‘othering’ of their community, and then extend grace across the walls.

At least that was my take away.

Posted with Blogsy

The way we run our world now encourages individuals to fight and grab as much as they can for themselves. Capitalism seeks profit for ‘me’ above ‘your’ value as a human being.

Bankers pay themselves huge bonuses from the bail outs designed to stimulate the economy for the good of all (bail outs which had to be initiated because of greed in the first place).

US oil companies and rich Middle Eastern sheikhs buy up and shelve plans for cleaner, more sustainable energy, like the electric car and the hydrogen fuel cell, in the name of immediate profits.

The wealthy elite continue to play elaborate gambling games with our money in order to make a quick buck now, and destabilize the economy for everyone else, plunging millions into unemployment and poverty.

Executives make decisions about their manufacturing processes which maximize profit while pillaging the environment and abusing the poor.

And ‘yes’, I am aware that Capitalism isn’t really the problem: it’s the human condition that’s the issue. Specifically, our want to acquire for ourselves, and protect what we procur.

Communism, you may be surprised to know, suffered from the same issues. Just the other day my mom was telling me a story about the time her and my father visited Russia during the Cold War. They were taken on a tour of Moscow, guarded at all times of course in case they were British spies. She told me about the opulent mansions built for the ministers within Russia’s government, and how she had never seen such wealth. All this within a society and system which claimed the interests of the many trumped the interests of the few, and yet somehow these ministers were able to work the system and aqcuire while the populace spent their days queuing around the block for their allowance of bread.

The fact is that human beings are selfish, power-hungry, money-grubbing things when left to our own devices. Only a precious few, self-aware and sacrificial individuals amongst us see the needs of humanity above their own bank balances.

And I want to be one of them, in the way I order my life and the way I do business with others. People must come before money, even if it means I fail at the Capitalist Game.

It seems to be what Jesus was talking about, even though we often ignore it.

Over and over again he confronts the issue of human beings taking a back seat to greed and gain. He speaks about “the love of money being the root of all evil”. He tips over the tables of those trying to make a buck in the Temple courts. In fact every time money is mentioned in the Gospels it seems to be in reference to negative actions like taxes collected for the colonising Roman Empire, Temple huxsters, or Judas’ blood money. Jesus himself is always spoken of in reference to people, not stuff. He speaks again and again about the poor; with words and actions reminding us that those less fortunate are our responsibility. In Matthew 25: 31-46 he even suggests that our willful ignorance of the plight of others may even have long reaching consequences, although we will do any amount of hermeneutical gymnastics to make this passage mean something else. Something with less teeth.

He doesn’t have an acquisition mentality. He has a generosity of spirit which seeks to give, and give ultimately.

In contrast, our modern world takes individuality way too far, and the fact that we speak about living in a globalised and connected world today makes our ignorance all the more inexcusable.

One of the big arguments going on today is whether humanity should follow it’s headlong trajectory towards ultimate selfishness, isolation, independence, and personal pursuit; or whether we should reverse the momentum and return to some of the good stuff we’ve left in the wake, like interdependence, community, care for others and a sense of humanity which extends beyond our own personal wants.

Now I’m aware that I’m about to enter into an exercise of rampant over simplification, but, for the sake of brevity, I’m going to do it anyway.

Let’s take a look at American politics:

The most right wing Republicans seem to be pro big business, imperialism, less government involvement; and are anti any sort of nationalizing of services like health care. They want to limit the stream of immigrants who flock to their promise of ‘life and liberty’, and they are keen to homogenize the population so they all become white, gun-loving, gay-hating, conservatives.

Democrats, on the other hand, are generally seen as pro the environment, cutting of military spending, nationalizing services and uplifting the poorest in society. They are more willing to embrace diversity, they want to ‘spread the wealth’ around, and they seem to understand that ‘politic’ is about the ‘polis’, or the people.

It’s never this black and white obviously, but if I were living in the US I would be a Democrat for one reason alone: they seem to be wanting to move the momentum away from acquisition to generosity, and even when they fail, that seems to be the intent.

Rampant right wing conservatism has built empires in the past. This mentality ‘gets things done’ and is very impressive in the economy of acquisition. But I think we have all seen the short and long terms effects of Empire. I hope that as a global human consciousness we are moving away from this sorting of thinking and acting. That we are learning from our mistakes, and opposing those who would seek to drag us down well worn paths of destruction and global bullying.

Forgive me for coming over all Michael Moore, but this stuff is happening, and what’s worse is that most of us know it, but feel no need to challenge the selfish elite who are ruining the environment and reducing droves to poverty. I can’t see any other option than revolution.

It’s happened many times before.

And it will happen again.

Those of you who have seen the close of Christopher Nolan’s Batman Trilogy; The Dark Knight Rises, will remember a scene where Selena Kyle whispers in Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s ear while dancing at a fancy Gala:

“There’s a storm coming Mr Wayne. You and your friends better batten down the hatches, because when it hits, you’re all going to wonder how you ever thought you could live so large, and leave so little for the rest of us.”

Make no mistake, the fact that this topic is popping up all over the popular media landscape is a good sign that it’s on everyone’s mind.

We have to halt those who would oppress for profit, or destroy for gain. We have to build back a sense of community and care for others. As human beings we have to reclaim some of the ‘village mentality’ which saw the collective good above individual good, and we have to learn how to apply it globally. We have to live more generously as human beings; generous towards our own, and the world at large. It’s the responsibility of a conscientious, interconnected species.

I came across this great benediction from the Franciscans:

“May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression and exploitation of people
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.”

…and I believe it’s going to take more than just realising this stuff for ourselves. It’s going to take those of us who have woken up shining the light of altruism into the dark areas. It will take active resistance against those who oppress for their own selfish gain, within your churches, businesses, governments, and the world at large.

PEOPLE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN STUFF!

I’ll leave you with these lyrics from Josh Garrels song, ‘Resistance’:

“See the secret committees, commence with their meetings
To make red tape in response to simple questions
Questions threaten the perception of the beneficial systems
A pyramid scheme with it’s cogs and it’s pistons
Mechanization of men, making more and more
Live in a miserable existence
How can so few, claim so many victims
And this begs the question
My rest is a weapon against the oppression
Of mans obsession to control things
Look at the long line of make believe kings
The lord of the flies want’s you to kiss his ring
Follow new rules with invisible strings
And become a puppet in the diabolical scheme
How do good men become part of the regime
They don’t believe in resistance.”

The reason I haven’t written for a while is because I was trying to sort my life out. After losing my job in South Africa in May, and struggling to even get an interview for anything new, I decided to make a run for the land of my birth and start over.

I mean everyone deserves a job right?

The good news is I found one. In 5 weeks! The last time I was applying for work in South Africa it took me 2 and half years to find a stable job. Admittedly I was probably very lucky, but it doesn’t seem to be that abnormal for citizens to be able to pick up work, even though the locals bemoan the state of the economy.

So I should be feeling good right? I made a plan. I took some action, and it paid off. I’m earning a living doing the thing I love doing: Photography. I even have the admiration of some of my friends who have commented on my ‘courage’ at being willing to make a another new start and risk it all.

But is it really that much of a risk?

I hadn’t been here that long before I started feeling quite uneasy; quite guilty in fact. It first began on the plane on the way over; a kind of creeping sense that I was actually not a brave victim of circumstance, fighting for my basic rights; but actually a spoilt brat taking the easy way out.

I am NOT the downtrodden.

I am the lucky one who CAN run before it gets too difficult.

I realised anew what a privileged position I hold in this world, just because of the amount of melanin in my skin, and the geographical fortune of my birth.

I’m white.

And I don’t like to admit it, but being white means certain things.

It means I have access to things others don’t.

It means I see the world in a particular way.

It means a certain standard of life is an expectation, when to others it’s a luxury.

For example, in the past I used the fact that I have two degrees as reason to feel sorry for myself when unemployed. But who gets to have two degrees in this world?

Rich people.

Priviledged people.

Mostly white people.

The vast majority can’t afford the kind of education I have been given. It doesn’t make me a better human being, it just makes me lucky to have been born into the kind of tribe that hands that sort of thing out on a plate, often at the expense of other tribes. Even getting into photography wasn’t really ‘earned’. At a desperate point I got in touch with my estranged father and asked for money to buy some gear. I was given a hand out to get on the ladder. How do people manage to get their start when they don’t have rich parents (estranged or not) who can buy them their first camera?

Even being able to run to another country where I could look for work is something that 90% of South Africans could never dream of doing. Most sit in abject poverty, with no education or prospects.

I don’t have options because I’m brave, and willing to take the risk.

I have options because I’m white.

And I’m well aware that that’s not fair. A couple of little things happened over here recently to highlight what an entitled white brat I am.

The other day I was filling the car up at the petrol station. I must have stood by the car for about 15 seconds before I realised that no ‘black person’ was coming to fill it up for me. I was so conditioned to wait to be served, and now I had to use a petrol pump for the first time. Fumbling with the petrol cap, I felt sick about the things I have taken for granted, and never questioned. And as petrol spilled down the paint work, because I had become lost in thought, I felt horrible for all the times I quietly cursed at the attendant back home, who didn’t seem to be paying attention, and was ‘ruining my paintwork’.

And I did the same in the supermarket too. Standing at the till while the lady scanned my items I realised I had to pack my own shopping bags. It was at that moment that the woman behind the till said, “You’re from South Africa aren’t you?” Whether it was because of the slight twinge in my accent, or the fact that she is used to seeing entitled expat whites stand there waiting for the minimum wage drones to come and pack their shopping bags for them, I don’t know.

I’m not at all suggesting that the UK is any more enlightened in this regard. These particular white people over here just happen to live a bubble where they don’t have to deal with what their Empire of yesteryear has raught on the world at large. My relatives over here, especially the older generation, have a naked racism which leaves me ashamed. They openly talk about foreigners as inferior, or ‘stupid’. For most it’s not even worth having the conversation with them though, because they are so convinced about their own superiority. It’s a hard wired prejudice.

It’s beginning to show in the politics of the country too as the conservative rulers gradually shut the door on the outside world, to keep ‘Britain British’. I think we all know what they mean by that.

A couple of hundred years ago Britain ruled the largest Empire the world has ever known. White people, my tribe, spread out across the world and took land and resources which didn’t belong to them, often at musket point. Millions were slaughtered in the name of this Empire. We got rich and fat on our violent foreign policy. Britain is the nation it is today because we stole so much from the rest of the world.

Is it any wonder then that many around the globe are making their way here to get a piece of the pie. As you walk around London, you will notice the incredible variety of people. It is as if the four corners of the old Empire are coming back to get a piece of the riches for themselves. And why shouldn’t they?

It is not good enough for us to sit back, try and close the doors on them, and hold tightly to some antiquated notion of superiority. This is a new world where white people must realise their history. We have to realise what we’ve done, and we have to move about more humbly. We have to be generous in ways which cost us, because we have so much to repair, so much to redress.

I remember, about 18 months ago, I went to an interview in South Africa with a very successful company who hired motivational speakers. I walked into the office of a well dressed man sitting behind a glass desk, who took one look at me and said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were white. No one hires 30 year old white men.”

I let myself out.

When I tell that story to other white people they act shocked, as if this is some kind of evil reverse-racism at work. But I don’t feel that way at all. I may not like the fact that I couldn’t get a job in South Africa because of the colour of my skin, but I absolutely understand why it has to happen. We have to get radical about redressing the imbalance we have created, that is if we are to move forward as a united, self aware species. This is what globalisation is all about, and yet those at the top of the power structures (those for whom the system works) are determined to stick their heads in the sand and hide behind the tenants of a free market world, where effort equals success on an imagined level playing field. Even with the most extreme effort, many cannot even climb onto the first wrung, because we have engineered the world that way.

It’s a white lie.

I wonder if we white people know how white we are? What it means to be white in the world? How others see white people? How we think? How we act? The things we take for granted, and the expectations we wield? The quiet biggotry which comes through in our speech, even if we are shocked by accusations of racism, and ‘have black friends’.

I saw this amazing photo shot by Mikhael Subotzky:

It shows a scene I have personally witnessed a thousand times in South Africa. But when you’re there, in the middle of it all you don’t think about the bigger picture. You just think, “well I’m here because I’ve worked hard, and I deserve this.” You don’t think, “So do these people, but they don’t have the opportunities I have, and that’s wrong.”

I don’t know what the solution is. I just know that I am white, and my tribe have a lot to answer for. My role for now will be to continuously open my eyes, and tread lightly in a world where my ancestors have trodden heavily.

I hope that seeing the problem, and admitting the part I play in it, is the first step to something better.

If you’re interested, here is a TED talk from Mikhael Subotzky showing more of his incisive photography of South Africa. WARNING: it’s not for sensitive viewers:

Let me fill you in.

I recently went on leave to the UK. I have never really had a desire to go back, until recently. Something in me wanted to return to the muddy isle and visit my roots, see family, reconnect with old friends, and perhaps feel a sense of belonging to a place.

I have moved about so much in my life; never anywhere longer than a fews years. In fact I joke with my friends that I am starting to get the ’3 year itch’ and feeling the need to move on. This subconscious timer runs like quiet clockwork.

I’ve always felt a degree of guilt about this ‘traveling circus’ existence. I have a thousand friends and little real community, and I never feel I’m anywhere long enough to build anything of lasting meaning. So part of my desire to head to England for my leave came from a need to feel like I belonged somewhere, even if it was on the other side of the world.

Anyways, I had my bags packed and was going through the motions of my last day at work before jetting off, when I was called into a back room and told that today would in fact be my last day in this job altogether. I knew there were problems, but to say this ‘blind sided’ me was an understatement. I was left with the awkward job of cleaning out my studio and saying goodbye to everyone, knowing I would have to explain the finality of each goodbye. I had to change their happy hugs with, “Oh my word, have an awesome time. Take tonnes of photos!!”, into tearful embraces with “What do you mean you’re not coming back? Why?”

So needless to say, getting on that plane I had very mixed feelings. I sat in my cramped economy class seat, my 6 foot frame smashing my knees up against the tray table in front of me, thinking, “I’m 33 and I have no roots, no work, no community, and I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

There is, on the one hand, an incredible feeling of power and possiblity that comes with this, like I could really do anything because I have absolutely nothing to lose.

On the other hand though, I had to fight off the comparisons which surfaced with all my friends who have ‘successful’ careers, burgeoning families, and real homes.

I felt incredibly irresponsible that once again I was sitting with an entirely blank canvas. Obviously I wanted direction in that moment, but there wasn’t any. I had no bright ideas, no back up plans, and no energy left to dredge any up.

Many times during my month long trip I sat in coffee shops, or on trains whizzing through London, wondering what would be next. I wanted a road map. The scared part of me wanted the next move spelled out. In those moment I had a particular theological crisis which is very familiar to me at this stage of my journey, and one which I still have no real answer for.

Does God care very much about what I do next?

I know the immediate gut response is, “Of course He does”. We throw cliched Jeremiah 29:11 bumper stickers at people (tearing the verse from it’s context) and tell them to relax and wait for ‘divine sky-writing’ to show us the next step. Evangelical theology holds to this idea that God has a book where He’s planned your life out; all that’s left is for you to go through the motions of living the thing out.

But I don’t buy it any more. If I’m honest I haven’t for a long time. I don’t believe He does have our lives mapped out for us in minute detail. I think He wants us to listen closely, but also to use our brains, and get on with life when we’re not sure… which in my case is often.

I remember my first encounter with the idea of ‘calling’. I was leaving High School and I had applied for a ‘year of your life’ program with a traveling music team. I thought the interview went well. They seemed to like me, and I didn’t sing too terribly, despite the nerves. So I waited for the phone call to let me know I had been accepted. I hadn’t even considered I wouldn’t make it. I had no back up plan, which is why it came as a shock when I recieved a call telling me, that even though I had every skill and talent necessary, I didn’t have a ‘strong enough calling’.

A what?

Not being ‘churched’ I had no idea what this ‘calling’ thing was. Of course I subsequently found out that my interviewers expected me to produce a verse of scripture which God had ‘sent me’ to tell me that He definitely wanted me on this team for the year.

I didn’t have one.

No words had lept off the page while I was reading. So maybe that meant He didn’t want me doing this thing.

It had been one of the teachers at the school who had suggested I join this team for the year; he’d even helped me get the interview. So when I put the phone down I ran to his house to tell him the bad news. He asked what they had said, and so I told him I didn’t have a ‘calling’. He just smiled and told me we were going to sit down and write them a letter back. He was good at this stuff, and so he bascially helped me ‘fake a calling’. I say ‘we’, but my participation was limited. I sat there in his office and watched as he typed out a letter. My contribution was ‘not talking to him so he could concentrate’. Luckily, he knew some verses which would pass for ‘calling-type scriptures’ and he threw them in there to give the appearance of the divine stamp of approval.

And it worked.

I got in.

In fact when I arrived for the first day of training I remember the man from my interview coming up to me and saying how impressed he was with my letter, and he had to admit he was wrong; that God definitely did want me on this team this year. I smiled back but obviously felt pretty guilty that he was reading words and verses carefully selected by someone else to make it look like I had recieved “the call”.

That day taught me that we’re supposed to ask God about every move and then wait for Him to tell you what comes next, like a bolt from the blue leaving you in no doubt concerning your next step.

The obvious problem with this is that, if you’re like me, God is rarely clear. For years I continued with this belief and often felt guilty that I made moves in my life without really having a clear sense that what I was doing was divinely ordained. I faked it for a good while though; pretending that everything I did, I did only because I had a clear hot line to God. I sat through many more interviews over the years and became a master at ‘calling’ language, to the point where few people could refuse me because ‘God had told me’, and you really shouldn’t refuse God.

There was, I suppose a great comfort in this belief too. It meant I didn’t have to make decisions any more. I just presented the options and waited for an answer. It really takes a load off when you’re no longer responsible for your choices. If things went wrong I could just make up some excuse about God obviously wanting this mess, and “Him working all things for good”, which seemed to let me off the hook.

I remember the first time an adult in a church suggested that God didn’t have some super-specific path for me to walk. It sounded like heresy. It also scared me. I had settled into this decision-making process now. I wanted to be told what to do all the time. I wanted to abdicate responsiblity for my life, because then I could blame the failures on someone else, and explain away my unhappiness with a martyr complex.

I know people who are stuck in places where they aren’t happy, completely afraid to move on because God hasn’t sent them a clear enough sign. Surely your misery is a pretty good one? They are literally waiting for a booming voice to send them the next set of orders, because at some point they have been told, “If God doesn’t tell you to move, wait for instructions.”

If I’m very honest, there have only been a handful of times in my life where I felt like He has actually actively led me to the next thing. Most of my walk has been stumbling along, through the mist, following some vague inner compass, quietly praying that I wouldn’t make a stupid mistake.

So where does that leave me?

Well, I have to pick myself up and carry.

Make a plan.

Do something.

Last time I sat in Cape Town trying to get freelance photography going I was waiting tables and still worried about making rent. Now God hasn’t told me to move, but I’m probably going to. I’m not going to sit in the same situation as last time expecting it to be different just because I haven’t heard any booming directions from the heavens. There would have been times in my life where I felt guilty for making such a big decision without a ‘calling’, but not any more.

I believe I have everything I need. I would love sky writing, but if I don’t see any I have to move on and try something. I have a brain, I have a spirituality, I have some integrity and self awareness, and they travel well. I should be able to take them into whatever context arises next and make the most of a new job, a new city, and a new life.

I’ve got lots to figure out , like how to get photography work, where to live, how to keep writing and challenging, and how to find good community. But I can do this on the move.

Does He care if I pursue these here in South Africa, or overseas? Not sure. But if I don’t get any kind of inner leading I am going to go for the most promising option and hope for the best. I’m going to own my life, and view it like an adventure. I refuse to get stuck because of the absence of direction.

I’m not going to stagnate.

Perhaps you’re stuck in a job which makes you miserable because you’re waiting for sky writing.

Perhaps you’re in a destructive relationship because God didn’t specifically tell you to move.

Maybe you’re living somewhere with few connections and bags of lonliness, but you’re too scared to start again somewhere because you didn’t get a verse yet.

Stop being silly. Obviously keep asking. and listening, but use your head too. It’s as God-given. Maybe your discontent is enough of a ‘sign’, and if you don’t hear anything to the contrary, be brave enough to try something new. If God wants to be deliberate then He knows better than you how to get your attention. If you hear nothing: admit it, look around at your options, bounce ideas off your community, and then keep walking.

So pray for me, if you have the inclination. Pray that God would be deliberate with me, because that’s always first prize. But if not, pray that something would work out.

I will aggressively pursue God as always.

I will continue to find ways to challenge the church to be about people, and not stuff.

I will still make space to be creative.

I will strive to find a way to make a practical, responsible living.

And I will hunt down community and meaningful relationships.

But beyond that I don’t know.

And maybe that’s ok.

What interests me is that this video has now been touted as the most viral video of all time; not a video of a cat being forced to play the piano, not a video of a celebrity flashing a boob at a live concert, but a 30 minute video showing one of the most dangerous war lords of our time, and asking you to help by creating awareness and fighting ignorance over this issue.

If you don’t know what I’m on about (and have half an hour):

In the midst of all the controversy I’ll put my cards on the table and say that I thought the effort came from a good space. I don’t believe the makers of this video had anything but the best intentions at heart, but the moment this video went viral, out came the knives. The makers were criticized for their tactics, their ignorance, their suggested solutions, and their budget. Now I don’t necsssarily agree with everything they say, but that doesn’t matter really, I’m not appointing myself armchair referee over their attempt to make a difference. What encourages me is the effort, and the concern for people on the other side of world, and the fact that it seemed to capture the imaginations of the public. Surely that’s a good thing?

But there seem to be a great many critics for this sort of thing out there.

I had an experience which higlighted this the other day reposting the following video to my Facebook feed:

One of the responses I got seemed far more concerned about the fact that the ladies were ‘scantily clad’. He bemoaned the use of ‘shock tactics’ in the raising of awareness for human rights issues.

Another comment in the same thread suggested that this was just another example of ‘slacktivism’. This is a term which was bandied around a lot shortly after the KONY2012 video experienced it’s meteoric media rise. In this case I suppose it suggests that videos like this just encourage people to watch a video and pretend they care about the subject matter. It becomes trendy to get the KONY poster, or ‘like’ the video, but little else is accomplished.

Hang on a minute though; surely this is the fault of the end users of the videos: we fat schlubs who sit at our computer screens and retweet the video to our friends feeling like we’ve made a difference. We can’t blame those who actually used blood, sweat and tears to make the video for our own inaction. Their hopes were to create some much needed awareness. Mission accomplished I would suggest, in spectacular fashion in fact.

The makers of these videos aren’t the ‘slacktivists’, we are.

And it’s not ‘them’ making the video that makes us ‘slacktivists’, but rather it’s the video that simply highlights what we already are: people who usually don’t care about anything outside our individual daily reality. Perhaps we are threatened because we know we should be doing more, so our defensive inclination is to point out the flaws of those who attempt to highlight injustice in our world so we can let ourselves off the hook and get back to the latest episode of 30 Rock.

It’s incredibly cynical to criticise those who get off the couch just because we want an excuse not to.

Now I know that, because I don’t shy away from criticism, I am often labelled a cynic, but I’m afraid on this one I am actually the optimist. I think this kind of effort on the behalf of the disenfranchised shows humanity is actually getting better. I really do. I think humans are being redeemed before our eyes.

Specifically: it hit me recently is that humanity is getting a global conscience for the first time in history. Now you are going to have to take a mental step back from the crime in your suburb, the corruption of your government, and the fact that the trains never run on time, to see the big picture with me for a moment.

Not long ago humanity was largely tribal. This meant that small groups looked out for their own interests, and were happy to pillage their neighbors to get more stuff for their group. When the Pentateuch speaks about ‘an eye for an eye’ it was actually a progressive law at the time because it ‘limited’ retaliation. Back then it wouldn’t have been unusual for a tribe to go over and slaughter their neighbors for an imagined slight.

Then humanity began to organise into Kingdoms and Empires. Rulers were charged with taking care of vast tracks of land, and their subjects who dwelled there. Kingdoms formed alliances for the good of their subjects and people were able to live in a relatively more secure world. Rome, in particular, advertised the Pax Romana (Peace of Rome) as they embarked on their conquests. Of course we know that kingdoms work better for those at the top than those at the bottom. Kingdoms also spawn slavery and abject poverty, so whilst it claims to be an enlightened form of society, it has very obvious flaws.

Then we enter the era of Colonialism, or as it should probably be called, “The rape and pillage of the world by white people.” Britain in particular ran all over the globe taking huge swaths of territory for themselves at sword point, or as Eddie Izzard puts it; “with the cunning use of flags”. They sadly valued the strategic geography or the natural resources of a region far above it’s local populace, and it was all justified with an alarmingly elitist worldview.

But as the world became more and more connected colonialism was brought into the cold light of day and shown for what it was. In the west we are beginning to see what we’ve done and many desire to make things right, though few yet know how.

Suddenly we are globalised and we give a damn about others who belong to a different tribe, or those who are poor and have nothing to offer us. The ethnocentricity of the kingdom era and the colonial era is slowly crumbling and we are really starting to see each other as the ‘broad sea of humanity’. All are my brothers and sisters, not just those who look like me, or share my accent. “Who is my neighbor?” Well everyone.

I don’t know if you heard but George Clooney was recently arrested in front of the Sudanese Embassy:

Why?

For these people:

I am very prone to cynicism when it comes to Americans protesting, and I know all the rhetoric regarding ‘white guilt’, and ‘liberal grandstanding’, but I really think these people give a damn; certainly more than those of us who throw stones at them from the side lines.

And I think this kind of concern for people halfway across the globe, who are nothing like us, is new.

No one expected the Assyrians to feel bad for their brutality during their conquests. We never heard of the Romans wanting to fight for the unjust treatment of other tribes unless it was in their interest. But now we have a situation where we care about ‘others’ in a way which is, historically speaking, unprecidented.

Is there a better sign that humanity is being redeemed?

But there is a branch of Christianity out there (a very vocal one) who genuinely believes that any kind of redemptive talk in the ‘here and now’, any call to actually make the world a better place, is a waste of breath.

A few weeks ago I was speaking on this blog about our responsibility to close the gap between the rich and the poor. I said I hoped for a future where there was less poverty and more equality. I had a good friend of mine quote me Ezekiel 13:10-16, in response. It says:

“‘Because they lead my people astray, saying, “Peace,” when there is no peace, and because, when a flimsy wall is built, they cover it with whitewash, therefore tell those who cover it with whitewash that it is going to fall. Rain will come in torrents, and I will send hailstones hurtling down, and violent winds will burst forth. When the wall collapses, will people not ask you, “Where is the whitewash you covered it with?

‘Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says: In my wrath I will unleash a violent wind, and in my anger hailstones and torrents of rain will fall with destructive fury. I will tear down the wall you have covered with whitewash and will level it to the ground so that its foundation will be laid bare. When it[a] falls, you will be destroyed in it; and you will know that I am the LORD. So I will pour out my wrath against the wall and against those who covered it with whitewash. I will say to you, “The wall is gone and so are those who whitewashed it, those prophets of Israel who prophesied to Jerusalem and saw visions of peace for her when there was no peace, declares the Sovereign LORD.”

Now I’m used to being bullied with verses taken out of context, so I didn’t take it too personally, but I think the accusation (and thinly veiled threat) is that by speaking about the sort of stuff I do in these posts, that I am just ‘white washing’ the ‘fact’ that humanity is rotten and we’re all going to burn.

That’s cynicism, and I’m sorry but I don’t think the Bible supports you in your view. You may be able to wrestle the odd verse out of it’s context to make it mean “we’re all evil, and the best solution is to build churches and hide away in them”, but the trjectory of scripture is definitely hopeful. Humanity is not going to the dogs, it’s moving in a redemptive direction, and I believe we can see it happening.

Sure there are unjust wars and genocide, crimes, corruption and human rights abuses, but they have always been with us… what hasn’t been present before is a collective conscience about them; a sense of global responsibility for those who are from a different tribe. Obviously this isn’t yet an all pervasive view, but it’s spreading. The bigots are slowly dying out with each generation, and a new love for all of humanity is on the rise.

We are beginning to understand racism and root it out.

We are beginning to make human rights a reality for all.

We are learning that religious tolerance is the only path to peace.

We are making inroads over gender inequality.

It now matters what the working conditions of the makers of your tshirt, or iphone are like… and that is a relatively new concern in global consciousness.

None of these things have been fixed yet, but at least we’re talking about them globally for the first time. We’re writing books, shooting photos, and producing videos which challenge our collective conscience.

Is there a better sign that we’re growing up as a species, and hopefully growing towards what God always intended us to be?

There is much reason for hope.

Take it from a cynic.

Oh no Sean! And here I was hoping that you would give me a neatly packaged answer (paid for by your high cost experience so it wouldn’t cost me anything), all wrapped in a pretty bow of absolutism.

How have readers responded to your book? Have you come across many others who cannot go back to “church-as-usual” but are stumbling in the inbetweeness of “church unusual”?

I suppose the response to the book has been fairly predictable:

There have been a few who are very angry that I would ‘out’ the church, or be negative towards the church in any way. In fact I even had a local church here in Cape Town preach a whole sermon about how I was a ‘False Prophet’ in need of a good shunning. But I think this comes down to a lack of understanding about what I’m doing. I see criticism as good when we’re off the mark. It means we care. The prophets did it. Jesus did it with the religious leaders of his day. In fact throughout church history there have been a constant stream of prophetic voices. From St Francis of Assissi, to Luther, to Bono; they call the Church back to its purpose, and we need these voices because apparently we’re easily distracted.

Richard Rohr (one of our contemporary prophetic voices) says that, “the Church has always needed a 2 party system to keep it honest”. This has been the tension between the priests and the prophets; between the ‘institutional leaders’ charged with maintaining the status quo, and the ‘loyal dissidents’ who challenge us to be better. It’s like the two reins in His hands which provide the necessary lateral tension to keep us on the right track.

I often feel this ‘knee-jerk’ reaction comes without seriously considering the content of what I’m saying, so I don’t take it overly seriously.

There have also been those who have never really had much to do with church who have responded to the simple language and easily accessible concepts which are presented in the book. Our church language can be so soaked in cliche that anyone not familiar with the rhetoric can’t access the ideas at all. The biggest compliment I’ve had was from someone who said, “I’ve always been anti-church, but I would actually attend a church if it were the way you described at the end of your book.” Some people have realized that their bad impression of the church doesn’t necessarily come from the fact that it’s rubbish, but more likely comes from the many bad examples of church out there on public display. Unfortunately in my experience those ‘bad examples’ shout the loudest.

I love that this book is giving people the impetus to rethink things; God, church and life at large.

There have also been church leaders who have pulled me aside and thanked me for the questions the book raises. One local leader said he took the book to his leadership and read through it together, writing down the questions which jumped out to them, and then made some big changes to the way they do church. That’s first prize for me. The point isn’t that people just run away, but rather that they make an attempt at challenging their church to change the things which need changing. Obviously there is a good and bad way to do this. I’m not encouraging that they become reactionary pain-in-the-asses, because that changes nothing. But I think it is time for people who see the holes to begin asking the questions of their own leaders. Being better has to be more important than being comfortable.

I also meet an ever-growing number of people who just can’t do cookie-cutter western church anymore. They are frustrated, and, even though they often can’t put it into words I believe it’s a God-given frustration. The most common response I get to this book is, “That is what I felt, but didn’t know how to put into words. I have felt like I was going crazy for so long, but now I know I’m not alone. Thank you.” The relief people feel is so palpable when they realize there really is great safety in numbers. I’m watching this group grow exponentially at the moment and wondering what will come next. What will these people do? What fresh expression of church will they bring, because I believe the next shift will begin with this bunch? I’m involved with more and more meetings where this is the subject. Mainline church is bleeding out the back doors, but I believe it is going to spring up in new and unexpected places as this dissatisfied group grows, and bands together, and experiments, and fails, and experiments, and fails, and moves us forward.

There is a prevailing controversy surrounding the Modernism versus Post-Modernism debate. What are your views on this and do you think this is some of what we’re talking about here?

I’ve heard the ‘mod’ vs. ‘post mod’ talk for years (in fact I wrote a whole paper on it at Seminary), but what interests me is that this talk is never coming from those who we would place in the ‘post mod’ category. It is always coming from those on the ‘mod’ side of the fence and, to my ears, it has a defensive undertone to it.

I know there is a shift going on. I know that modernity has been shown up for a sham. Two world wars, the aftermath of colonialism, ever widening gaps between the rich and poor, and the recent financial crisis have opened our eyes to the fact that what we have built doesn’t work in many significant ways.

The same is happening in the church. We are opening our eyes to the holes of our modern churches. We don’t believe the way we do church answers the real questions of life, the universe and everything; and rightly so, because it doesn’t. Much of its energy now is spent trying to defend its position and methodology (sometimes with church leaders sitting congregants down on the couch and reducing everything to belittling talk about this ‘postmodern fad’:).

The other side of the coin though is that this is nothing new. The world, and so church, is always changing. We are always transitioning. The reformation, the east/west split, the puritan movement, the charismatic revivals of the last century; all these things speak of flux.

I actually wrote a post a while ago speaking about the Rhythm of change which happens in church, which will give you more on this. Check it out if you’re interested.

It might be necessary to say (and I wish I had thought to say it in the book) that I’m not suggesting that church as we know it will fall apart either, or disappear altogether. The Eastern church is still going strong after the East/West split of the last Millennium. The Roman Catholic Church is still going strong after the 1500′s Reformation. I just think that the forms of church we have at present don’t connect with the present generation (or likely future ones) and that church will have to change and branch out again. The feeling that I get is that this ‘branch’ will be returning this time to something older, something simpler… almost as a reaction to the complex structures we built in the Enlightenment Era, which ultimately didn’t work.

I think the whole point is to make sure that you are seeing the bigger picture, the bigger moves God is making, and asking us to make. Too often though, those who are playing with dualisms like ‘modern’ and ‘postmodern’ are oversimplifying the real shift which is taking place in an attempt to protect their position. In my mind this is why ‘postmoderns’ don’t speak about ‘postmodernity’. For me it’s too simple a label.

(On a side note: it’s also not a great idea to try and identify something by what it’s not:)

So how does one who is going through this spiritual transition learn new ways of relating to God? My current struggle is that I feel stuck… I can’t to go a church anymore to ‘hear from or experience God’ but I don’t know how to connect to God in this new (strange) place that I’m in. Any pearls of wisdom to share?

Forgive me for banging on about it but I think this is the whole point: ‘owning your spiritual journey’.

Don’t get me wrong, I think there is immense value in learning from the traditions of those who go before you. But I think there is a real danger in always accepting what has come before. As I mentioned before, I think the vast majority of those who ‘attend church’ simply cut-and-paste their theology from whoever happens to do the most speaking, and he or she is often only doing a similar copy-and-paste job from the tradition in which they were raised.

At some point every mature follower of God has to think through, question, and assess how they relate to God. In this they selectively reject and affirm truths which they have always just assumed to be true; they make decisions about everything for themselves, perhaps for the first time. I am aware that most people never really reach this point, but I really wish everyone would.

I think it’s what God wants for us.

If you feel like your traditional church model doesn’t connect with you anymore, it’s probably because you’ve already started questioning and assessing things for yourself. Great. Now it’s time for you to explore, and this will take time and effort. That means reading wider than your tradition to see how people in different corners of the world, at different times, have connected with God.

Read from the mystics, the Catholics, the Greek Orthodox, the Celts, the Church in the East, and learn to assimilate Truth from all these spheres. You are now on a brave journey to build your own faith and connection with God; a path you will have to tread carefully and with great integrity. This isn’t a free-for-all opportunity to build your own new religion, but rather a broad and open posture of the heart which seeks to learn from all streams who have followed God through history, not just the one you grew up with.

Warning: it will be lonely, and most will warn you about the dangerous path you are on, and few will encourage you, but don’t despair. It’s likely they are just threatened by your freedom (something Jesus was quite in to by the way).

Those who the church called ‘heretics’, but history calls ‘saints’, are often a great place to start because they definitely went through this process. Read their stories.

But if you learn anything from these guys, you will probably learn that you’ll never ‘fit in’ to a church group again. Your theology is too broad, and doesn’t support the narrow agendas and hermeneutic of your local corner church. At some point you will have to come to terms with the fact that you will forever be a free agent. Your biggest challenge will be working out how to remain a positive influence in the global church, whilst being perceived as a threat to the local church.

It doesn’t mean you can’t slot in somewhere, it just means that you now know too much so it will be tricky, and will take a great deal of maturity on your part.

I can’t… no hang on… I won’t give you a list of new ways to connect with God, because I think the search is important. It’s a vital part of the journey, and I wouldn’t rob you of that happy struggle for the world.

All I can say is:

Keep pressing on.

Keep asking.

Be brave.

Be honest.

And when you feel most alone, remember that while few around you will walk this narrow path, many have gone before you.

You are not alone.

You’ve taken a courageous approach to telling ‘the-whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth’ of your spiritual journey and experience with the Western church. What motivated you to write the book; when did you start and how long did it take?

The simple answer is that I began writing it properly when I left the church and it took me about 18 months, although, I had been collecting ideas as I went along so it wasn’t work done from scratch. I think it rarely is for autobiographical work.

The motivations for writing were pretty diverse.

Firstly, I wanted catharsis. I was fired from the last church I worked at and fortunately I was seeing a spiritual director at the time who was on hand to help me work through what happened. In our conversations on his well worn couches it became clear that there was a history of hurt to my time with church. He suggested that I take the time to write that story down to externalise it, and then be able to see it for what it was. In a real sense, you’re eavesdropping on my therapy sessions, but I like that this is what the book ended up being. I could have edited it to make it sound like I had all the answers, but the confusion felt more honest.

That said, I also wanted people to read and identify their own stories in mine. I have met too many people with similar stories who feel like they’re going crazy, often because that’s what they’re told. It’s very hard to acknowledge your own painful journey with church because it means being critical of the holes in the institution. Such people repress the things they know to be true to avoid conflict. Of course, this stuff usually comes to a head in uglier and more destructive ways in the future. I hope that my story gives people a feeling of safety in numbers. Perhaps as a part of this people would challenge their own churches in the areas where they are hurting people by obsessing about all the wrong things. On the other hand maybe it would give these individuals the peace of mind to finally move on.

I suppose I also had in mind that I wanted people who have left church altogether to rethink things, and realise that what they are actually running from is probably just ‘church done badly’, not ‘Church’ itself. I still think church is the best idea we have, and that’s why I think it’s so important to get it right.

My overall impression of the work is that by daring to be honest in your own journey, you succeed in giving the reader space to acknowledge those things that have been felt but are difficult to articulate. What intrigued me throughout the book was your passion for ‘The Great Task’. I wondered during each chapter how your experiences (which were negative mostly) of institutional church, and its leadership, affected your personal relationship with God?

I ask this question because you mention how you once heard God clearly during a difficult relationship and you touch on aspects of your connection with him, which you admit throughout the book is mysterious and not something that can really be neatly tied up and presented as “this is how I get with God”. I’d be interested to know how your relationship with Him has matured over the years and whether you feel as if everything you have experienced has eventually helped you connect with Him in more real ways?

I suppose the growth I’ve experienced has been slightly different to the average journey. I have had to aggressively ‘own’ my faith. I didn’t grow up in a family who went to church, nor did I attend from a young age. I had very few real mentors, and so I really had to learn to rely on my own connection with God. It was far from easy, but I suppose it did gift me with the ability to see things as they are, because I had no vested interest in the status quo. This goes not only for the institutional stuff, but also for my own relating to God in that if it didn’t work, I tried something else. For example, for a while I was guilt tripped into having traditional ‘quiet times’ until I realised I connected with God more meaningfully on a walk… so I did that instead.

I think there has been a lot of movement over time through the normal stages. I started out with the expected spiritual naiveté, which soon became over zealous religiosity and arrogant bigotry, mostly because it impressed the rest of the church. But at some stage (probably around the ’3 Guides’ chapter in the book) things turned and I began to unlearn my over simplistic views of God, and embrace uncertainty as an old friend. I was now relating to God on my own terms and for the sheer joy of it, not to impress. The angry and fearful edge fell away too, and, as Rob Bell often says, “I became less identified by the things I stood against, and more for the things I stood for”.

I feel a lot more free today in all areas. I still read the bible, obviously, but I see things in it very differently because I’m not reading to support preconceived ideas. I still pray, but not in such a ‘superstitious’ way. I am constantly ‘taking steps back’ too, in order to see the bigger picture. I don’t think standing too close to small ideas about life is useful; it’s how fanatics and bigots thrive. So now I get stuck into history and the science of the world, and the universe beyond, because by seeing bigger and bigger parts of the story I get a bigger and bigger sense of what He’s doing, and how I can get stuck in.

I think the reason that some people might be ‘afraid’ of reading your book, or might dismiss it as “heretical” literature, is because you offer something dangerous: freedom. We have been brought up with rules, with the ‘right way of doing things’.

So anytime anything threatens to ‘rock the boat’, as it were, people don’t know how to handle it. In your book, you say a lot of things about your experience with ‘institutional’ church, which I think most people experience, but are either too scared to say it – or don’t know how to put into words yet (as you mention in your writing a lot).

Do you think that, in some ways, the current model of church is preventing people from reaching spiritual maturity?

Good question. I suppose it was one of my biggest frustrations when working as a Pastor: that people didn’t want to ‘own’ their faith. Attending church, listening to sermons, and singing along with gusto seemed enough for most. They had none of their own opinions, they had just copied and pasted the dominant voice from within their church. To this day it is one of my pet peeves hearing Christians overusing the phrase, “My Pastor says…” in conversation.

But, that said, was it ever any different? I wonder how many people through history have sought for themselves, and asked the dangerous and liberating questions? Have the masses always just attended church, and is that as far as they are willing to go? The leadership, of any tradition, have rarely encouraged independent thought because the outcome is always uncertain, and that’s a threat to the status quo.

I can’t get away from the fact that Jesus seemed to be intent on getting people to think for themselves though. I, for one, and I’m sure it’s the same for you, can never go back. I know too much now, and I will go around and break as many others out as possible. I still have to be sensitive in the way that I do it though. Sitting over coffee with someone I have to feel out how much they’re ready for, because there are some rough times ahead for those who begin to ask for themselves, and they have to have the faith to deal with it.

So, yes, I think threatened church leadership has, and likely always will, discourage independent thought, and this can severely stifle spiritual growth. That’s why I think my job is important, because there has to be a way out for those who are brave and ready.

So what insight can you share with those who have ‘awakened’ to the issues with institutional church and cannot go back to ‘church as usual’? How have you dealt with this dilemma in your own life?

I’m going to be very honest and say that I haven’t dealt with this issue yet. It’s still very much in process and I believe it takes time to do well. That said there are some things which have helped.

I deliberately took some time after leaving my last church to work through some of my own issues. The problem with leaving church is that you can be quite black and white about it. You can blame the ‘big bad institution’ for everything, whilst letting yourself off the hook completely. But my own story was riddled with mistakes I had made, and it was important to take the space to work out where I was to blame, and where there were legitimate institutional problems. It takes time and distance to sort the wood for the trees on this one, but it’s essential if you intend to move forward, and not just run away from it all.

The inevitable happened though, and I quickly felt guilty for not attending some kind of church in the meantime. I had to learn to be kinder on myself and not rush because there is a certain organic process to the big picture story which is unfolding. I really believe that what is happening with my own story is indicative of a much bigger trend happening all over the Western Church. The old is showing some major holes, but the new is not yet formed in this latest movement of the church’s historical growth. We are in some major liminal space. That means that I won’t necessarily find some sort of church context to belong to, because it may not yet exist, and jumping back a step out of guilt is not growth. I have been actively looking, but haven’t yet found a group of people wanting to follow God with similar views on money, community, collective responsibility, cosmology etc etc.

Even the ‘alternative’ house church groups I have visited seem to be an anemic version of ‘big church’, and there is no point in rushing my own situation by joining “anything I can find” to alleviate false guilt, because I will quickly be frustrated. This doesn’t mean I’m not spending a great deal of time talking to people about what could work now, and exploring ideas and building relationships; but it takes guts to stay in that space and not rush to create or join something just to fill a gap.

I would suggest finding people who see what you see. Talk to them. Share stories. You will quickly discover that there is a bigger thing going on here. You have to share this journey too because otherwise you are in danger of just being reactionary. Look for the commonalities with your story and others; it will help you sift the macro picture from your own petty hurts. Deal with your personal wounds with a good spiritual director, and when you’re making headway, take a look at the big picture and what is happening with the western church around the world. Read authors from other streams. Read history. Get a bigger, broader cosmology. Use your new found freedom to expand your vision and see what God is up to globally. It will help you decide what to do next.

I really can’t give specific answers as to what people should do because I think there are as many answers as there are contexts. Some will choose to stay in their church and challenge from the inside. I know some who are starting their own cell groups within churches to explore this stuff. Some leave and join smaller house churches, or ‘fresh expression’ type groups. Some walk away and decide to simply go it alone (certainly not my recommendation). The fact is we are all still fumbling along in the dark here, but if we do it together we will discover the next mode in time. It will take lots of patience and personal security, but I can’t see a short cut.

(On a side note: we have to remember that whatever we move into will also not be “the answer”, it’s only the next step in a long evolution.)

To be continued…

And it’s all bollocks.

As we were commiserating, my friend shared with me a conversation he had with a Psychologist friend of his. My friend had asked the Psychologist why depression seemed to be on the rise? Why are more people on medication? Why are the therapist’s diaries full?

He said something very interesting, “People assume they have the right to be happy, and they don’t.”

We act like we don’t deserve to experience any hardship. Somehow we believe we should be exempt from pain and difficulty, so that when it arrives we are confused, and even petulant.

So we go and bang on the Psychologists door.

Where did we get that idea?

It seems pretty new. When you read history people seemed far more at ease with life in all it’s sadness and celebration than we do today. They hadn’t created the modern bubbles we have. They knew they would run the full gamut of fortunes through their days, and they did so with a lot more grace than we seem able to muster.

Want an example?

Ok.

I’m sure there are many reasons this ‘you deserve happiness’ lie thrives and confuses so many, but I, at least in part, blame Oprah. As well meaning as she may be, she has sat thousands down on her hallowed couch (when Tom Cruise hasn’t been using it like a trampoline), in front of millions of viewers, and told them that, “You deserve happiness. You go get it. You leave him if you’re not happy. It’s all about what makes you happy.”

And the result is that divorce rates rise. I was just listening to a podcast this week where some guy was decrying the ‘church of Oprah’, because every time his wife would watch she would turn off the TV and then lay into her husband concerning all the things she thought he should be, but wasn’t.

They are now divorced.

“Well done Oprah. Genuinely. You saved a lot of women from abusive marriages, but what about the rest?”

Obviously it isn’t really her fault; she is only mirroring the culture around her that tells us that we’re entitled to happiness. But the fact is that 50 years ago divorce was far less an option in people’s minds. Now it seems that it’s too easy for one party to check out because they believe they deserve more happiness than they are experiencing, so rather than sticking to it through the rough times they seem to be respected more by society at large if they ‘stand up for themselves’ and leave.

This expectation is being communicated loudest from the US, but I find it interesting that even in the US constitution it doesn’t ‘promise happiness’, only the ‘pursuit of happiness’. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a noble pursuit, but even their founding fathers knew it isn’t something you can promise.

Happiness isn’t a right.

It can’t be.

That’s not how life works.

I know one area which touts this lie around regularly is the Pentecostal church, who have somehow confused Jesus mention of ‘blessing’ with the idea of prosperity and happiness.

I had this problem a few years ago. I had just left my job with the church and found myself having to find employment. I started up a freelance business shooting photos and video, and waited tables on the side, and it was a rough time (check out “My Lament”). I remember bumping into someone from the last church I had worked for, and she asked me how I was doing. I told her it was tough, and that there were often months when I wondered how I was going to pay the rent.

Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love this individual, and she couldn’t have been more well meaning, but her attempt at being encouraging me was baffling. She said, “You know that God wants you to have a great job don’t you? Are you asking God for a great job?”

As a matter of fact I had been, but it felt more like a desperate prayer shot out with a measure of guilt over having prayed it in the first place. I mean why did I deserve a ‘great job’? I can’t find anything in scripture suggesting that I am more deserving than anyone else.

The fact was that I was looking for work in a country with an incredibly high unemployment rate, in the middle of a recession. Why was I any more deserving than the next guy? I was also white (still am if you’re curious), and living in a country which has been raped and abused by ‘White Imperialism”, so surely in a just world I would be low down on the list of people who ‘deserved a great job’.

I think maybe this well meaning parishioner’s comment came from the assumption that if you’re a Christian that God will do you a favor, because you’re part of His club, like some nepotistic uncle. I can’t find that in Scripture either. The ‘good guys’ and the ‘bad guys’ seem to have an equally bad go of it, or as the bible would say, “The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.” (Matt 5:45). Show me someone who followed God’s call through scripture and I’ll show you someone whose life was filled with heartache and conflict.

The big problem with this false promise, especially in churches, is that it heaps guilt on people. I mean, as my friend told me that I ‘deserved a great job’, I began thinking, “then why don’t I have one? Have I pissed God off? Am I a bad Christian? Do I need to read my bible more or prayer more?“ And that sort of thinking is at the beginning of a very slippery slope into superstition, where I ‘sacrifice more on the altar, and the gods give me more of the things I need’.

You see the big problem with this lie is that every time you triumphantly bellow it from the pulpit, in whatever guise, there is someone in that auditorium who is dealing the hardships of life, and all you have accomplished is to add guilt to his/her already difficult circumstances.

It’s oppressive, triumphant bullying.

So to those who keep promising other Christians happiness on God’s behalf, when He has never promised it Himself, please stop. I know too many unemployed people, too many heart sore divorcees, and too many homeless saints trying their best to seek God through their problems. They don’t want to go to your church because they know you will likely only make them feel worse about their situation. If you have a practical way to help them, go for it, otherwise learn to hold them in their pain and confusion. Stop suggesting they ‘deserve happiness’, and that something must be wrong with their spirituality, or their lives would be just peachy.

Ironically, I think we would actually be much happier if we didn’t think we deserved happiness. We would greet conflict and trouble differently because we’ve been expecting them; not in a morbid way, but because they are as much a part of life as the good times.

I’m talking about people who take 3 or 4 overseas holidays a year complaining about how tired they are, and how they never get a break, when most of the world could never even dream of the luxury of going to an entirely different country just to relax.

I’m talking about people who live in palatial houses moaning that they don’t have enough space when the majority of the world will never actually ‘own’ a home unless they build it with their own two hands out of rudimentary materials, on land which strictly belongs to someone else.

I’m talking about young adults who attend the best educational institutions in the world but do nothing but gripe about having to be there, while the underprivileged of the world look on in open jealousy at the life opportunities it will afford these ingrates (of which I was one not too long ago by the way).

This kind of complaining can only be done by people who have never bothered to take a look around them at the world they are living in. It’s as if, even though they have been given so much, they are afraid of acknowledging how good things really are. They have to constantly compare themselves with the few who are further up the chain of privilege, and then cultivate a permanent feeling of dissatisfaction.

I mean it’s a rare thing today to find people who would say that they have ‘enough’.

But this comparative complaining is only one aspect.

The other is the seeming luxury the rich have to create problems and drama out of absolutely nothing.

We all instinctively know that good stories are ones in which the protagonist has to overcome hardship, or push through adversity, but if you have everything you need then it seems you need to create drama ‘ex nihilo’ in order to get the feeling that your story is a good one.

And so we do.

Check this song out from comedian Bill Bailey:

I’m so sick of hearing the rich and privileged play this game; pretending their lives are so tough, especially within earshot of those with so little. In my country it is still common for people to have a domestic worker who slaves away cleaning house for a pittance; and I cannot tell you the number of times I have watched spoilt westerners complaining about their lot whilst the maid stands at the sink trying to work out how she will afford the taxi home, or food for the family on her pathetic wage!

It pisses me off!

Now some of you will suggest I’m being harsh, and that I don’t understand that ‘rich’ problems are problems too. That may be true on the surface, but the stakes are very different. Often when the rich hit problems they may have to downsize the house, or sell a car; but when the poor hit issues, lives are at stake.

The other tell tale sign is that you have to ‘choose to create space’ in our lives for a lot of our 1st world problems.

You won’t find child soldiers in Southern Sudan concerned over how popular or pretty they are. They have problems like starvation, staying alive, and living with the horrors they are seeing.

You won’t find single parents supporting 3 kids, with as many jobs, complaining about their job satisfying them creatively, because their kids futures are at stake.

You won’t find much of a need for depression counseling in those tribes untouched by western ‘civilization’, who struggle everyday to find enough food to feed themselves.

They just don’t have the space in their lives.

In other parts of the world people don’t have the luxury of dealing with ‘privileged issues’ because they are busy dealing with real life and death problems. So as ‘all encompassing’ as our 1st world pressures may feel, we have to admit that many of them are a luxury, and it’s our job to get a broad enough picture of the world that many of them fall into context at the bottom of the ‘importance pile’.

We desperately need a little perspective.

And the church is no different on this issue. We feel a similar need to create drama, perhaps even more so.

A friend of mine, also named Shaun, came to Seminary to preach in Chapel one day. He had graduated the previous year, but had been asked to return and speak in our weekly meeting. I still remember that message because it struck me as odd at the time. Amidst whatever else he said, he made the prophetic point that the church’s upcoming issue will be an ‘obsession with our own pain’. He suggested that we would wallow in it and our ‘often imagined or inflated’ crises would blind us from the job at hand.

It’s only with hindsight that I realized he was absolutely right.

My experience of Pastoring was often a frustrating one, because I was sick of listening to people moan about their lot in life, when a little perspective would have cured it all. But I was never allowed to give it, because we live with the trendy lie today that every felt gripe deserves credence. I mean, I have a degree in Psychology, but I would probably make a terrible counsellor in the minds of many because I would be telling people to ‘grow up and get some perspective’ on a regular basis. I really think some people just need a kick in the pants. Verifying their felt pain into eternity keeps them constantly looking inwards, and oblivious to the world out there.

I think my advice would often be to go and live with people who have nothing, feed someone who is starving, clothe someone who is naked. It’s the best therapy. When I worked in the church I quickly realized that the soup kitchens I ran were far more beneficial for me and my growth than for those on the street. It pulled my pathetic gripes into sharp perspective, and many of them just fell away. Taking youth groups on mission trips had the same effect, and it always amazed me as I watched teens getting stuck in to help those with so little, and then forgetting to be self conscious and self obsessed, at least for a little while.

Maybe Matthew 25: 31-46 is speaking as much about us being saved from ourselves here and now?

Often when you dig through peoples pain, you find there is nothing under the layers but created reality.

There is no event.

No one said anything.

No one did anything.

It is all perceived.

To some it seems creating drama out of their lives gives them purpose and meaning. It becomes a drug.

I know that’s not a popular thing to say, but I’ve found it to be true.

It doesn’t mean there isn’t real 1st world pain out there, born of real hardship; it just means we have to learn the difference between a created, or accentuated issue, and a real one… because at some point we have to get on with our lives, and become about more than ourselves.

We have to unlearn our propensity to support each others victimhood, and learn to throw our energies at real problems.

I was sitting with a friend the other day and we were speaking about the church, and she made the comment that she believes one of the big problems today, and one of the main reasons people are leaving the mainline church, is because they don’t take people’s hurt seriously.

Needless to say, I couldn’t disagree more.

I think this obsession with felt pain is the reason church today is so insular. I mean with all these ‘desperately wounded’ people, no wonder we have no time for anyone else. Most of it comes from this understanding of church as a ‘hospital for the wounded’, usually because of a bad reading of passages like Luke 5:32 and Mark 2:17. The problem with this is that hospitals tend to be centers who demand that people come to them. But church, as I read scripture, is meant to go out and change the world, and that’s going to be hard to do if we’re all hiding away licking our wounds.

My friend may be right in her reasoning: perhaps that is the reason people are leaving; because they aren’t getting the attention they want… but then maybe they should. Maybe it’s ok. Maybe no amount of attention would be enough.

As I read the Gospels, Jesus wasn’t very precious with people, in fact sometimes He comes across as pretty harsh. He didn’t sit with the woman at the well in Luke 4 speaking about abuse, and marital difficulty, and he didn’t help her spin her story to justify her position as the victim. Instead he told her to get up, go back to the village, pull it together, and tell people what she’d found.

Yes there is real pain, and that needs compassion and care, obviously, but for all the rest I really think we need more of this tough love.

Of course it’s true that living in our modern world carries some unique stresses and strains with it, but we have to rise above them and not obsess over them.

The whole tone of Jesus’ verbal and non verbal message is to move beyond ourselves to the needs of others. How can we do that if we’re constantly creating new ways to paint ourselves as the victims in our own privileged lives?

Time for us to get up, go back to the village, pull it together and tell people what we’ve found!

I often find myself letting loose an internal tirade of expletives at inconsiderate fellow motorists; regularly catch myself thinking, “what did he mean by that?” to the most innocent statements from others.

I am prone to seething on the inside with the ‘inconsiderate and selfish’ I rub shoulders with daily.

But I’m sure most of the things I ‘get offended’ by were never meant as ‘offense’, so why do I take them as such?

So why do we do it?

I’ve rambled on in the last few blog posts about “Falling Upwards”, the new book by Richard Rohr. I’m afraid today you’re in for a barrage of quotes from him, because I’ve found his wisdom so helpful, so here’s the first:

Richard Rohr

“Ken Keyes so wisely said, “More suffering comes into the world by people taking offense than by people intending to give offense.” The offended ones feel the need to offend back those who they think have offended them, creating defensiveness on the part of the presumed offenders, which often becomes a new offensive – ad infinitum. There seems to be no way out of this self-defeating and violent Pin-Pong game – except growing up spiritually.”

I realized some time ago that the person I’m hurting the most with this habit of anger and offense is me. Usually the objects of my anger don’t even know about it, and if they find out they invariably either pity me, mock me, or ignore me. I’m the one who potentially loses sleep over this stuff.

And I’m tired of it.

I like my sleep.

I want to grow up and move past what feels like a very base and childish response to life. So perhaps the obvious next step in my spiritual growth is to pay attention to the things I am offended by and, one by one, ask the question why?

Why am I so angry?

What am I really so angry about?

Usually, I think especially in men, anger is actually a sign of fear, so perhaps the better question to ask is ‘what am I afraid of?’

Some more from Richard Rohr:

“Invariably when something upsets you, and you have a strong emotional reaction out of proportion to the moment, your shadow self has just been exposed. So watch for any overreactions or overdenials. When you notice them, notice also that the cock of St Peter has just crowed! The reason that a mature or saintly person can be so peaceful, so accepting of self and others, is that there is not much hidden shadow self left (there is always and forever a little more, however! No exceptions. Shadow work never stops.)”

Carl Jung

Rohr subscribes to the Psychological ideas of Jung, who suggested each of us has many layers to our person. On the very outer layer sits our ‘persona’, and this is the person we create to show the world; the personality we want everyone to believe we really are.

At our core however sits our ‘shadow’ self. This is the dark part of ourself, the selfish, needy, dangerous part of us which drives us towards our greatest evil. Interestingly it’s the shadow which often drives us to create the persona in the first place, and we will use any and all energy to protect the reality of this game from others.

To be a well rounded, spiritually mature human being we need to realize that both the persona and the shadow are a lie, but before we can do that we have to acknowledge that they are both there, see them for what they are, and then settle into life long ‘shadow work’.

Rohr also says:

“I have prayed for years for one good humiliation a day, and then I must watch my reaction to it. In my position, I have no other way of spotting both my well-denied shadow self and my idealized persona. I am actually surprised there are not more clergy scandals, because ‘spiritual leader’ or ‘professional religious person’ is such a dangerous and ego-inflating self-image. Whenever ministers, or any true believers, are too anti anything, you can be pretty sure there is some shadow material lurking somewhere”

A few blog posts ago I told you about taking some kids on a youth camp a few years ago. The speaker got up on the first night to tell them that (and I quote) ‘non-christians are dead, demonized, deranged and demented’… and he took 50 minutes to yell that at us! He seemed very, very angry that there were people out there ‘behaving badly’ because they weren’t Christians. I mean really angry! He was offended by them!

I remember thinking his anger was very strange.

Earlier this year, I heard that this same guy had been removed from his church because of sexual impropriety… and I wasn’t at all surprised. It makes perfect sense. As Rohr says, any time we are too anti anything, too offended, it is likely that it is saying more about us, than about the object of our offense. In other words offense is often a sure sign that we haven’t dealt with, or often even acknowledged, our own ‘shadow material’.

So coming back to me, because this doesn’t really work unless you make it personal.

I think some of my shadow material is that I’m afraid people don’t value me. My ego is afraid people are not taking me seriously, or not thinking me worth their attention.

It’s ugly, but it’s true.

And I feel that needy thing clawing for attention often, pricking my anger if I ignore it, and then creating offenses to release that anger. The problem is (and it always was) that I need to acknowledge this ‘shadow’ that demands love and attention from those around me; remembering all the time that they too are likely wrestling with their own shadows.

Except God.

He has no shadow to wrestle with and so is able to give love completely. Jesus calls Him my ‘Heavenly Father’. Now my earthly father was a pretty poor example of unconditional love, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe it exists.

I suppose I just need reminding that I already have it. I have love. I’m not perfect, and that’s ok. No one else is perfect either; we’re broken and wounded, some just hide it better than others. We can’t rely on each other to give us our sense of worth, or we’ll just condemn ourselves to the dizzying highs and lows of daily human interaction.

We have to root it somewhere else.

And this is what Grace is really: knowing the immovable love of God which tells me I’m worthwhile.

Which tells me I’m ok, even though I always have a long way to go.

I’m 33 now, but I still feel like a kid in this and need to remind myself of this stuff constantly. I need to remember that I have to ground my being in the broad reality of life, and in the unmoving grace of God. I need to remember my shadow and take it seriously. I need to remember others are wrestling with the same. And I suppose it starts with being aware of the things I take offense at, and beginning to let them go by reminding myself of the Truth.

Maybe use it as an exercise this week: each time you find yourself offended at someone else, try stopping for a moment and asking yourself what is really going on.

Seeing as I’m on a Rohr-quoting roll, I’ll leave you with this thought:

“The general pattern in story and novel is that heroes learn and grow from encountering their shadow, whereas villains never do.”