I will freely present you with a handgun with one bullet in it. You will take the gun and point it directly at my head.
What happens next?
I will freely present you with a handgun with one bullet in it. You will take the gun and point it directly at my head.
What happens next?
Over the years here, I’ve shared at length (and perhaps lengths too far) of the brief life I once spent working in ministry. I haven’t spoken much about the life I spend now.
For the last two and a half years, I’ve worked in digital media: writing, editing and overseeing content for sports websites and support for and development of websites for the auto industry. I began the former with a background in journalism and WordPress; this very web presence, along with the work I did with a collegiate fishwrap, got me in the door there.
Over the last two-plus seasons in web support, development and a stint in account management for good measure, I’ve worked on a lot of projects and websites, which has allowed me to interact with a lot of people in the auto industry, from dealership proprietors from the used lot down the street to executives overseeing some of the largest auto groups regionally and nationally. By and large, my opinion of auto dealers remains healthily skeptical; I’ve been privileged to talk with really smart, savvy and collegial folks from every time zone.
I’ve talked to others, as well. (Haven’t we all?)
The interesting thing is how similarly those professionally part of American Evangelicalism and in your garden variety North American car dealership think.
Whilst perusing LinkedIn, I happened upon this meme:
As a rule, I don’t do much on LinkedIn. This, and the presuppositions behind it, moved me to violate my own principles. I couldn’t not act, and that was the moment that I realized that I was and am, indeed, a fully-fledged digital evangelist. Much like encountering someone upholding the principles of five-point Calvinism, the fire was trapped in my bones and I could not contain it.
Let’s talk about blue parrot thinking.
The world now exists as a singular duality: the material world (the booth I’m sitting in, the coffee I drink, the keyboard upon which I am relentlessly hammering right now) and the digital version (the website you’re reading [hi!], the memes you share, the snaps that were and are no longer save for the gutter of one’s mind.) There is no longer a difference between the two: your website, digital brand, social media footprint, all of them are viewed as equivalent to your actual self. A car dealership’s website is not a billboard or TV spot, it is the car dealership itself. People are window shopping (and, in a growing number of instances, getting financing and even desking deals in the virtual space.) A church’s website is not a tract, bulletin or radio spot, it is the vestibule (and in a growing number of instances, the sanctuary.)
My response to the meme: “Your dealership website IS your showroom. A poorly-functioning, design-blind website is the same as a dirty, dingy converted gas station used car lot. Not an extension of your brand, but your brand itself.”
You might own a converted gas station used car lot. There’s nothing wrong with a converted gas station used car lot, provided quality vehicles are marketed by quality people there and provided at mutually-beneficial value between buyer and seller. The point is that a poorly-developed website will undermine sales efforts and hamstring efforts to grow your business. A bad website is a loud fart during the exchange of wedding vows: the deed might get done, but the process in getting there is seriously disrupted.
The idea that businesses or organizations of any variety can and should be unapologetic in their digital crumminess isn’t just bad marketing, it’s bad business. There’s a reason this website exists and now in a semblance of ironic glory.
Be glad there isn’t an easily-accessible similar site for car dealers.
Examples of both of these are examples of selling blue parrots. They’re dead on arrival. Worse yet, no one’s even buying.
One can try to talk one’s way out of it; a bad website isn’t bad as long as people are coming in the door and we sell a car is philosophically identical thinking to the Machiavellian ‘even if one person comes to know Jesus, it will have all been worth it!’ gambit tossed out without a shred of self-awareness by Christian zealots who are content with alienating thousands so that they can hoist one on their shoulders in their deluded, bizarre tendencies toward self-congratulation.
In missiology, it is referred to as the ‘mission station’: an outpost people are expected to be drawn toward, as though it were a force of nature bringing them into the center (never mind that centrifugal force doesn’t actually exist.) The mission station, despite its obvious limitations and demonstrable, historic flaws as a strategy for proselytization, remains the preeminent method of ecclesiastical brand building in the world today.
The car dealership without a digital footprint and identity suffers from an identical problem and, without a way to interact with and get in front of others, others will remain staid or, worse, resort to their stereotypes. No one denies that the church and car dealership both suffer from historically poor optics. The fact that every church is stumbling over themselves to declare themselves real and authentic and relevant and that many car dealers talk up their hassle-free, stress-free, not-your-typical-dealership experience only underscores the point.
Churches and car dealerships have been offering the public blue parrots for so long that they only show up when they have to: when the car breaks down, or Christmas and Easter.
What it comes down to is integrity. If an entity wants to put its best foot forward, it’s going to do the best possible job in every possible way. That includes digital marketing, because digital presence is now actual presence, thus the same efforts put into a difference-making organization–be it of the religious or RPM variety–must be put into how that organization exists in the digital space. The same is also true in reverse: a great website or digital presence shouldn’t be papering over blatant flaws in the brick-and-mortar space. To wit, Wendy’s has a killer social media presence, but I’m not buying a Baconator.
We have to come to grips with the fact that it may be more expedient or more affordable to cut corners, but it isn’t right. We may not be turning back the odometer or putting floor mats over cigarette burns, or masking insecurities of conscience by using scare tactics to manipulate someone into a conversion.
It’s all selling dead blue parrots, and when confronted with the fact that the parrot has ceased to be, readying any number of excuses as to why the parrot is alive (or, more to the point, why we aren’t willing to provide a refund.) If either church or car dealer is interested in changing perception, they’re going to make sure their various forms of presence are aligned and consistent with one another, if for no other reason than there are no various forms of presence: either there is presence or there isn’t.
This is how the world is. In reality, this is how the world has always been. We’re just recognizing it anew via emerging technology…and a nearly 50-year-old comedy sketch.
Talk about a clickbait-y headline!
I missed this viral post when it went berserk in September, again in February and see so much of a self I don’t particularly enjoy remembering that I couldn’t not write a response that ended up being a 2000-word monster, too big for the facebook rejoinder I promised a friend (Sorry, Kerry) and so, in the spirit of teh interwebz, I offer this, a behemoth talking about what someone else is talking about, which is one of my very favorite things to do.
(It’s not really one of my favorite things to do.)
And, while I do think Sam Eaton is doing some navel-gazing, I also think that he’s got honest points for all sorts of inaccurate reasons, which I discuss somewhere in the 3950834986th paragraph. That said, lots of noble enterprises have been undertaken for bad reasons.
In sum, there is nothing new under the sun.
Because sociology is amongst the softest of sciences, those my age (born 1981, too busy loading my diapers to appreciate the ’82 Brewers) have been labeled as everything from Gen-X to millennial and now x-ennial [barf.]
The reality, because I’m in this precarious gray area, is that generational differences really don’t exist. That said, nearly every lament the writer has about the church not caring, not listening, not adapting is the same lament the generation before him had, the same lament I had (and have) and generations before me had.
I remember thinking when I was 18 that I was going to write a new theology and it was going to be revolutionary. Then, I studied for about three seconds and realized that I had nothing new to contribute to the conversation, that the problems I identified were nothing unique or special or exclusive to my experience or perspective, and that I literally had no idea what theology was.
Millennials aren’t unique, they’re not exclusive and they’re not hard to figure out. They’re no different from any other group of people pushed out into this world. What has changed is the context, what they’ve been bequeathed–technology, ideas, ethos, etc. Those things, incidentally, have NOTHING to do with them. Just as rock and roll didn’t just pop up ex nihilo, just as drug culture wasn’t created in a vacuum. For those things: we just need to look in the mirror, just as our parents needed to. Former Assemblies of God superintendent Ralph Riggs put it this way: “If the youth fail, we are to blame.” He was absolutely right.
To wit, if the number is now a staggering 59% loss, then it is staggering because it is a substantial improvement over the 80-90% attrition rate documented and cited amongst those who knew better 15-20 years ago.
[You can stop reading here if you’d like; it is the summation of my thought on the matter. The rest of this is a point-by-point rejoinder of the original piece.]
Now, let’s dig into this point by point. The snark lever is in the on position, fair warning.
1) Ummm, Sam? You’ve gone viral. Do you really think nobody is listening to you, on a platform that allows billions of people to watch you gripe, or monkeys throw poo at each other, or people do unusual to abhorrent things to each other?
2) Sam, if you’re sick of values and mission statements, you should break out in hives over ‘Love God, love others.’ That phrase has been beaten to death, resurrected and beaten further, killed and beaten into a pile of mush on the ground, devoid of any recognizable influence or impact.
Mission statements can be valuable when employed judiciously. Often, to your credit, they are overused. What matters here is perspective: what is it that one community sees that another does not? This is the value of Paul’s letters, not in a singular voice, but a singular person involved in myriad cultures and communities. Paul’s words are not unilateral (shove it, Reformed types: ‘Let the women stay silent’ is NOT prescriptive) but are demonstrative of the recognition that 1) the church existed and grew without him, and 2) those vantage points helped him shape the way he led and influenced them.
Similarly, what each community sees as value-able or worthy of effort and enterprise can help one another shape their own, or engage culture at large in a different way. If we all just said ‘love God, love people’ we’d likely be even less effective than we are right now.
3) Yes, the institution is self-centered and Americanized. Yes, the busy-ness of church life has stagnated purpose and growth. Yes, service is often overlooked.
No, reducing Bible studies and airing grievances will not help. We tried this long ago, with a different set of millennials: the 19th century variety. The social gospel bombed terribly, though it did leave us with the Pledge of Allegiance (written by a Baptist socialist) and the immortal Walter Rauschenbusch (the OG conflator of socialist political doctrine and something faintly resembling authentic gospel.)
It destroyed and polluted most of what has come to be known as mainline Protestantism, which is largely feeble and impotent, but all too happy to have little free libraries out front and soup kitchens in the basement. Those things are good and needed, but any notion of the importance of the Christ-event is typically lost as soon as there is something Republican to protest.
4) Hey, I’m with you! Eschatological garbage has got to go. It is theologically-bankrupt (how many years have to pass before we have to reconsider an ‘imminent’ rapture or apocalypse?)
Seriously, Sam? Groeschel? Using The Gospel Coalition to defend your points is like the Green Bay Packers trading for Teddy Bridgewater. Actually, this contradiction and paradox is an ideal fit for a world in which P is not P is not only accepted, but encouraged. It’s the world you inhabit, and the world created and fostered by those who have gone before you.
5) Kindness and compassion are great. I’m learning how valuable they are and cultivating them in my own life.
Several generations before you have clamored for authenticity. Said generations have desired outlier seekers. And those people who seek out those people typically ARE those people [/looks in mirror]. Those skills do come naturally.
The problem, Sam, is not that the church hasn’t been trying; the problem is that the church has tried and is actively trying too hard. This is why we have a horrible, knock-off subculture in the first place. Training outlier hounds while demanding authentic community? Are you actually thinking these things through? Have you examined your own thought processes, or do you recognize any of what you’ve griped about as being interdependent issues?
It doesn’t take Aquinas to see your blindspots. Then again, I remember I used to be the same way. See also: the very first sentence of this already-lengthy post.
6) Millennials don’t trust institutions. They said the same thing about Gen-X. Whatever comes after you will likely say the same thing about you.
Guess what? If you want transparency, it’s there for you. All registered nonprofit organizations with 501c3 status have to report annually to the government and to membership. (These are why they have those irritating annual meetings.) Without institutionalization of some kind, there would be even less transparency than there is now. Further, any official business is legally-available on demand with written notice. But hey, you run a nonprofit, right?
/checks Recklessly Alive website
///no need to be transparent
So you’re complaining about a lack of transparency when you’re running an organization that is not recognized as a charitable organization and doesn’t need to comply with what most churches and other charitable organizations do? Especially when your own financials aren’t readily accessible?
Have fun with your audit, Sam!
(Actually, I love the idea of zero-based budgeting, and would love for the federal government to adopt it.)
7) Why does this have to be an either or? You note that there are millions of videos and podcasts, and yet you don’t realize that the cacophony of voices a few clicks away are devaluing and diminishing quality preaching and pulpit rhetoric. Millennials crave relationship, you’re right. So did my generation, the generation before that. EVERYONE CRAVES RELATIONSHIP.
Now, creating a database for older and younger people to connect? How does that create authentic community or not further entrench the institutionality you detest? Intentionality often smacks of patronization. Further, old people tend to feel the same way you do about not being heard or valued. You’re not alone, Sam. Your problems are not unique and your insight is decidedly unoriginal. That’s fine, until you go viral. Then you open yourself up to feedback and criticism. And then you have another unoriginal problem entirely.
8) Speaking of value!
I find the opposite of your viewpoint true–most people who are most invested in church ministry or activity are older. I’ve never heard of a millennial prayer warrior, but I’ve heard of hundreds of grandmas whose prayers moved. Frankly, if your assertion is true, and four in ten are sticking around church, there aren’t enough of you to do anything.
Yes, we should be gracious with those who serve and volunteer, but you don’t serve or volunteer for the laurels–you do what needs to be done as its own reward. That’s something you don’t realize when you’re young. Fatherhood has taught me just how much like Sisyphus those who serve are. The lesson has made me better for it. Simply put, Sam, I think your perspective here is selfish and as such misguided. The right conclusion with the wrong reasoning is still the wrong conclusion.
SEX SEX SEX SEXY SEX SEX!
Again, you’re saying the same thing that has been said for decades. But, the moment a preacher, for better or worse, talks about sex, politics, social issues, whatever, he/she will get blasted for it (if it’s the wrong viewpoint, which is entirely dependent on whoever is listening and their own idolized social perspective.)
You don’t create real, relevant spaces. Contrived relevance isn’t relevance at all (see also: Magazine, Relevant.) And, again, you don’t see that your solutions lend themselves toward institutionalization.
10) Fine. Cool. Good. Let’s do this! I agree with you, Sam!
But a church in Springfield, Missouri can do this when the area is largely red state and Evangelical. You get the local Assembly of God church in Madison, Wisconsin to try asking what to do for the local government and school and they’ll go broke from the lawsuits and be annoyed by the protests.
It’s not that simple.
Instead, go pick up trash at a park. Help a neighbor with their yard work. Be subtle and don’t come off as self-serving (and many churches that tout their activities and service do exactly this.)
11) Again, Sam, everyone is sick of being ignored and tired of broken promises. I’m a BlackBerry guy. I get it!
And, if you want people to stop lamenting and bitching about millennials, shut up and do. And you’re trying to do that very thing, and you should be applauded for it. But the higher your profile, whether you like it or not, the bigger the target is on your forehead.
After all, as a millennial purporting to speak on behalf of millennials, that’s exactly who you are and what you’re doing: a whiny millennial. You can’t complain about blowback when anything you’re writing is fair game for billions.
The same whininess is found in every generation. I am from another era, but I, too, whined as you do now. That’s why I’ve spent hundreds and hundreds of words pushing back.
12) The problem isn’t that the church isn’t reaching millennials, the problem is that it’s not reaching ANYONE. Generational obsession exists primarily in two places: sociology and Evangelicalism. Beyond that, it is a fiction to be marketed to and or exploited.
Here’s the raw truth, Sam: generations mean NOTHING. Trends mean nothing. They mean nothing because there is no real difference between your generation and mine, or mine and my father’s. The same problems exist, just with differing perspectives and differing stuff that has been left to us.
And this is the odd part about your post going viral: it’s nothing new or particularly insightful. You’ve touched on things countless others and myself have. The problem isn’t that you’re wrong, it’s that, in many ways, you’re right. It’s the way you have retroactively built cases for your conclusions that is the issue, often in ways that nullify or contradict outright several of your core criticisms or presuppositions.
So, if you want to be a part of a reform movement, by all means, do and be. Stop writing clickbait. Stop with the self-martyrdom. Stop thinking your perspective is exclusive to you.
And, when you do get blowback, as you have, don’t not listen to those who do, and don’t write a post about how you are confused as to why people range from loving to hating your work. When you write for the Internet, you’re writing for anyone. The thinness of your skin will show when you double-down as you have in a follow-up post that borders on being self-congratulatory in a masochistic sense and tone-deaf to those who you claim are tone-deaf to your generation.
Again, nothing new under the sun.
“What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.”
– Blaise Pascal, Pensées VII (425)
More commonly, this phrase is seen as something along the lines of ‘Every person has a God-shaped hole that only God can fill.’ And this is a nice notion, lending itself well to an apologetic that insists on the existential inadequacy of life without Christ’s salvific work.
In recent months, I’ve been wrestling fiercely with inner demons, confronting my own dark places and winning some of the battles, while waging others still. In unearthing a lot of the baggage and processing through everything from past and present hurts to memories I literally had to recalibrate, I realized something that deeply bothered me.
I am half-man, half-chasm. There is an enormous hole in my soul, and I’ve spent years trying to fill it, trying to let God fill it, but mostly trying in vain to do it myself. Inversely speaking, it’s like trying to bail the ocean.
Then Pascal and the bastardized version of his quote came to mind. And I thought it over. And while I understand what he’s saying, he’s wrong.
An abyss, even one in the shape of a deity, cannot be filled.
Further, not only can that hole not be filled, I’m not sure God is particularly interested in fulfilling anyone. If it is so that we are incomplete without God, that completion does not complete God, but us; that is to say, that God in this state of affairs is not God at all. We are. It is completing us, and not completing God or God’s work.
No, it is not us who need to be fulfilled, but God. God may well be incomplete without us in all our broken, incomplete–ahem, holy–lack of glory. It is for our frailty that grace is offered freely to those who would embrace the grace giver; that we need not be made whole, but satisfied solely in the Christ-event.
It is this realization that has brought me significant relief and peace in these trying days and months. It may well be what has stemmed the tide. The hole needn’t be filled: it is for this very reason Christ came! Nothing will fill that gap and nothing should, lest we be somehow dissatisfied with the resurrection or somehow find resurrection inadequate. (And many, many religious types do, and with the best of intentions!)
Family, education, career, art, benevolent involvement, passion, religion: these are all great and worthwhile things and worthy of our time, effort and devotion. They will not heal existential wounds or provide fulfillment. While these things are not substance abuse, violence or other self-abusive behavior (often with lasting effects on others), they can very easily have the same pernicious effect, because they, too, can become false idols. Only anchoring into something transcendent of life as we know it will provide any relief at all.
Something like the man who left the tomb empty.
Rather than Pascal, I think Augustine is more fitting: Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.
It is not completion we ought to seek, but rest.
“…you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” — Genesis 3.19b
I was not raised in a Christian tradition that paid much recognition to Ash Wednesday or the Lenten season, which began for many Christians a week ago. With the arrival of the season, though, this phrase has stuck in my mind.
To be returned to dust. Pulverized; pulvis: dust, powder, ash.
We will all be pulverized. What (ahem) levels the playing field more than that?
Perhaps in our heightened state of enlightenment, we have forgotten what it is we really are. Regardless if one believes in the literal creation (which I do not), or in evolutionary development (theistic or otherwise), the source is the same: we come from the elements. In kind, we will end up elements again.
In the meantime, we are animated dirt.
And, as dirt, living amongst dirt, we tend to lack self-awareness of our own dirtiness. As such, we take our fellow dirt for granted, we mistreat, we hate, we ignore, considering our collection of dirt of more value than someone else’s. All the while, neglecting the fundamental fact that I am dirt and could be dispatched to my natural, dusty state at any given time.
The fact that we are animated dust, then, should never be far from our minds, Lent or otherwise. This is the time to be grateful, to be fair, kind and to recognize the myriad ways in which we fail one another. This is the day to seek forgiveness and to forgive. The garden might not be an option anymore; that shouldn’t keep us from creating something beautiful (or as beautiful as dust can possibly be.) This is hope, that in spite of our mutated condition, we might yet even have the faintest resemblance of a time when things were right.
Indeed, while we yet have anima, we are extraordinary pulvis. Capable of life and destruction, often in the same manner and from the same source, inexorably thrust toward our pulverization. Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
What will you do with your interim? What shall I do with mine?
Pain is a good and necessary thing.
This not to say it is good, which is to say that pain is itself pleasurable (ummm…unless that’s your thing, in which case, thanks for reading?), but that its utility is essential to living: the presence of pain or discomfort is the body identifying something wrong in its systems.
Undoubtedly, you’ve heard this before. Pain is a megaphone, so on and so forth.
Suffering is endurance of a burden: the long, drawn-out affliction. It is not pain, rather pain extended. It consumes; you know when you’re flat on your back with the flu, the room spinning around and you’re trying to remember what it’s like to not writhe and wretch.
Wholeness becomes a faint memory as suffering floods the mind and soul. Suffering is then the converse of wholeness. Wholeness turned upside down.
Be it physical, emotional or mental, it is unfathomable to those who are well, as wellness is to the one who suffers.
Within this rubric, emotional pain and suffering is reflective of a lack of emotional wholeness; often, the absence of love in loss, in being unrequited or in abandonment. Suffering becomes the test of one’s capacity for love.
Blessed are those who suffer, for they could love more than this world would ever allow. Blessed all the more are those who suffer gladly, for they never let suffering consume their joy.
Would that we retained such joy. Would that I had such joy.
My experience raised in church: marginalization, abuse, neglect, alienation. In ‘the world’: support, encouragement, friendship, community.
— B. Elias Sirvio (@8sirvio) November 8, 2015
Of course, this is painting with a broad brush: it’s not like life away from ecclesiastical trappings or vocation has been all daisies and tulips, and it’s not like church was a complete and total wasteland. However, the trends are at the very least disturbing for the sustainability and even basic recognition of the Christian movement and mission.
The church isn’t merely content with shooting the wounded; Evangelicals are now openly practicing a form of religious eugenics, drawing out those who fail to adapt to the hegemony, isolating them, eliminating them. In the process of creating a movement of themselves, by themselves and for themselves, Christians have only further alienated themselves from the very world they were tasked to serve and redeem. Those who do not comply are not excommunicated–that would be too direct, and conflict is a sign of dissension and weakness. Rather, the idea is even more injurious: marginalize, isolate, ignore. Abuse not of commission, but omission.
Move the herd one way, move the black sheep toward an already-open gate. When they leave, they leave freely. And Uriah was killed in valiant service to his king.
This complex exists in both ‘progressive’ (progressing toward what, exactly?) and ‘conservative’ (conserving what, exactly?) Evangelical circles, both of whom at their core share fundamentalist moorings derived from a political vantage rather than any sort of theological conviction.
Guess what, heathens? It’s not a good time to be looking at American Christianity. Not exactly a buyer’s market, and nobody wants what they’re selling.
I wanted to be a part of that world; to serve in ministry and build bridges of redemption into a community. Yet, though I was raised as one of them, though I shared a common commitment to the cause and did everything they asked me to do, at considerable cost and personal sacrifice, I was rooted out. Those who supported me turned their backs, or betrayed me in favor of the denomination, or to cover their own backsides.
When you’ve been blackballed by Christians, it’s not just you they’re after: they go after you and anyone you’ve ever known. Think Terry Benedict, but with even less class or tact.
That was over ten years of my life: amounting to not much of much, driven out of ministry, forced to improvise, forced to deal. Thankfully, I have dealt. And I say what I have said above not out of spite, but out of cold, detached truth. That was my experience, it was very hurtful, and it came at that hands of those who are supposed to sow Christ-likeness into others. Some can never cope with a fraction of those experiences, some have baggage from a lot worse. Many I know who were placed in that crucible emerged as anti-theists, or ran as far from Christianity as they could. This is the legacy they’re leaving. And they couldn’t care less.
Again, the world hasn’t exactly been a paradise: I found myself in two very toxic work environments where I was eminently overqualified and undermined by superiors. But it’s a new day.
What is ‘the world’, anyway?
Since there’s no official definition in this case, we can rely on experience and context. For the typical Evangelical, it’s little more than a bogeyman; an othering term to classify that which is acceptable and that which is not. The world is supposed to be a hostile place, a place deprived of Christian virtue or otherwise profaned by the absence of redemption.
All of that is lunacy.
If anything, life disembarked from the good old gospel ship has shown me what the church is supposed to be, and decidedly isn’t. I found more support out here than I ever did in pursuit of ministry. I wasn’t a gadfly to be suffered until I flew out the cracked car window; I’m a person with significant skills and abilities to be invested in, harnessed and utilized. I’ve encountered amazing people, some of whom were outcast themselves or otherwise thoroughly disillusioned with religion. Even some of those I’ve met who couldn’t give a crap about religion have been profoundly decent people: generous, thoughtful, gracious and kind.
What my experience in the last six months has underscored to me is that the church is so far detached from reality, and so self-insulated, that its inhabitants fundamentally lack the ability to connect with anyone who isn’t one of them on even a remotely-human level. Their efforts to connect with the community are alien to the community they with which they try to connect. The only way they know how to share their concern is through ham-handed cliches and tired gambits. If my time in the world has taught me anything, it’s that I’d frankly rather be with them than with a church with one foot in the sky and the other in a grave, not knowing and not caring which will be taken first.
This is precisely opposite of the incarnation. This is the great apostasy: not that American Christians have backslid from faith, but worse, from reality. More frightening yet, they may not be alone in the effort.
I’m still very much a believer, but not in the institution of the church or in those who are thoroughly institutionalized. #QuickPost
— B. Elias Sirvio (@8sirvio) November 8, 2015