A New Word for Christian?

 One of my favorite writers, John Fischer, once asked: Do you ever wish we had a new word for "Christian?" I bet there are a lot of people out there who would be Christians if they didn’t have to become a "Christian" to be one.

To me, John Fischer is a guy who "gets it." A man of faith whose faith deals with the real stuff of life, not the stuff of political activists or irrelevant evangelists or poor communicators with big plans and no skills at getting them across. He's a guy who is able to say the important things about why people dislike so much people who believe what I believe. And he's right most every time, I've come to believe.

People don't like us because by and large...

• We're fake.
• We're hypocritical.
• We're judgmental.
• We're known more by what we stand against than what we stand for.
• We're loud and opinionated.
• We dress funny. (Well, at least on those horrible TV networks.)
• We fit in the real world like a black and white TV with rabbit ears fits with a new Game Cube.
• We throw around language that doesn't mean anything to people.
• We think we're better than others.
• We think we're right. All the time.
• We're unfriendly.
• We're a clique.
• We play at being pious.
• We don't feel comfortable associating with non-religous people.
• We ask people to change who they are before we'll accept them.
• We want converts, not friends.
• We are terribly condescending.
• We like ideals better than people.
• We focus on rules more than living.
• We can't even get along among ourselves.
• And most of the time we end up disproving what we say we believe more than proving it.

It's a painful list to make. And I could go on.

But there's another side. I've seen the soft underbelly of my faith that doesn't get shown on the news. I've seen the man with AIDS who shook my hand and hugged me and said thank you. And I asked him, "For what?" because it didn't seem right for a man to have to thank me for being human to him. I've seen more "Mother Teresa's" at work in storefront centers, helping kids graduate high school and helping people learn job skills to get a better job than fast food. I've seen people I know give their last few dollars of their monthly budget just because someone had a need.

A Christian I know once asked me if I joined an online journaling community so I could "share my faith" with people. That's a tough question to answer for me.

First, because I can't get away from "sharing my faith" with anyone I know. My faith is part of what makes me, well, me. It comes with the package, so to speak, and I'm not going to apologize for it being there. So, I guess, simply by the nature of "being" I'm "sharing my faith" -- at least in one sense.

Second, it really gets down to what people mean when they say, "sharing my faith." If by it they mean, did I join to make a bunch of converts to my way of thinking, then the answer is no. Plain and simple.

I joined social media and blogging communities because I like getting to know people. All people. Particularly people who don't believe the same as me. My life would be really boring with just me-clones around. And to be honest, I don't like most Christians I know either. For all the same reasons many other people don't.

Would I like for my friends to believe what I do? Sure. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't. Is any friendship contingent on it? Of course not. Never will be. I consider it an honor that many of the people I've met in LJ continue to give me the time of day once they learn that I'm "one of those religious types" -- albeit a far cuter and less stereotypical one, I hope. I'm fortunate to be given the opportunity to be a friend in spite of the baggage my world view brings with it.

In fact, I received today what I consider one of the highest compliments I've ever received, bar none. An friend said I was the "nicest Christian I know." (Okay, she added some other stuff about my fascination with fishnets, but that's for the other essay I promised.)

And the worst part...

I start to get pretty proud of myself when I mention things like that.

Which just goes to show how much I still don't get it myself, after all.

The Merely Annoying Gospel

We’re killing the gospel to get people to listen.

What do I mean?

Well, remember how following Christ is supposed to be offensive, divisive, renewing (as in overwriting the old, not just refreshing it), death-to-self inducing and all that other “hard stuff.”

The gospel is designed by God to offend every sense of human strength. It flies in the face of every thought that we can “make it on our own” or “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps” or “DIY.” It stands in front of those notions and screams a very loud, “No! I’m sorry, but no. It just ain’t happening.”

Then it says, “But I’ll do it for you. All you have to do is follow.”

And every bone within us free-willed humans shouts, “No thanks, if I can’t do it myself, then I don’t want to do it. I don’t mind the gift, but the terms are too high. You can’t get me to admit that without you, I’m nothing.”

And like the rich young ruler, we often turn away.

But that’s the gospel. Or at least that’s the gospel God designed. The one we’re preaching nowadays has lost all that power. The sharp, dividing edge has been dulled. The offensiveness has been downgraded to mere annoyance.

The gospel is not  practical guidelines for a happy life.

The gospel is not a self-help book.

The gospel is not something you can take part of and ignore the rest.

The gospel is not something you can face without either admitting or ignoring the truth about your own spiritual state.

The gospel is not something that gives you the ability to feel “meh” about—it either offends you deeply and drives you away or it draws you to it deeply and offers you hope for change based on someone else’s ability.

Our modern gospel has been converted from something life-changing to something value-added.

Ironically, in doing so, in our efforts to make the “gospel” more appealing and less offensive to the average “unchurched Harry and Mary,” it is we ourselves, the Christian people who have become offensive. It is our “self-improved,” value-added, holier-than-thou-ness that offends our unbelieving friends and neighbors. We’ve stopped telling people that we’re just like them -- “such a worm as I” -- and we all need the offensive gospel that cuts us off at the kneecaps spiritually, and we’ve somehow started conveying the message that we’ve improved and that they can become more like us if they follow the same practical rules and spiritual guidelines.

We’ve taken the idea of an offensive gospel delivered by the “beautiful feet” of a loving and merciful and forgiving and thoroughly inoffensive people and turned it into an inoffensive (and thoroughly ineffective) gospel delivered by an offensive people. Seems to me we’re missing the point somewhere in all that.

I don’t mind people being offended by what I believe.

I do mind them being offended by me.

And I could be wrong, but isn’t that kind of the point of being salt and light in the world? I mean, isn't salt supposed to taste good?