Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Love is Louder than Hate

Our church's youth group tells it like it is. I love these guys. Very loudly.

"Love>Fear" to be released New Year's Eve!

As we are deep in the thick of the gift-giving season, I'm proud to share that I'll soon be giving you all some brand new music!  Love>Fear, my upcoming two-song EP, will be released on the morning of December 31st for your audial consumption.

(And as an aside, I don't know if a two-song project technically counts as an EP, but let's roll with it for the time being).

Why an EP release on the last day of the year you ask?  The tunes - Your Radiance and Greatest of These - were written for Seeking Stars, the 2012 Collegiate Conference at Montreat on January 2-5.  This is a fantastic national conference for all college-aged folks with some amazing keynoters and preachers like Sara Miles, Gabe Lyons and J. Herbert Nelson.  Somehow in that incredible lineup, I got asked to lead music.  And I decided, in addition to doing the standard praise and worship repertoire, that I'd write a few of my own.  Your Radiance is based on the conference's scripture and is a co-write with my good friend Jerry Chapman.  Greatest of These is not tied specifically to the conference theme, but was one of those beautiful songs that came in a flash.

More about the songs later - just know that on New Year's Eve, as you watch the 23-some football games that'll be on TV, you can turn the sound down and listen to some new tunes.  It'll be available as a digital download from iTunes, Bandcamp, and CD Baby. 

Get psyched.  I sure am!  And a Merry Christmas to you all.

 

The hospital check-in that wasn't

The phone rang, as it does throughout the day in the offices of First Presbyterian Church.  Lynn, our office administrator, was on the other line in the office next to me, so I picked up the phone. First Presbyterian Church, this is Steve.

A pause, then a stumbling voice: Steve....uhh, are you okay?

Odd way to start a phone conversation.  I assured him I was.  It was a church member on the line, one who runs a local business in town.  For some reason he seemed genuinely concerned about my welfare this morning.

Yes, Bob, I'm fine, thanks! How are you?

I'm doing okay.  I was just worried - I read the email.

You may be asking the same question I did: What email?

He went on to tell me that an email was circulating around the community that morning about me - that I had fallen ill, that I was in the hospital recovering from some unknown illness, and that me, my family and my church needed to be kept in everyone's prayers.  This, of course, was news to me.

I've got the email right here, Bob said.  Want me to forward it?

While I was waiting for the email to make its way through, I shared with Lynn the weird developing story of my mysterious hospital visit.  Then the phone rang.  It was from someone else calling to the church to see what was wrong with me.  They had gotten the email too.  News - even incorrect - spreads fast.

I heard the "ping" of my email inbox and found Bob's forwarded message. The subject line read: "Informational Update on Rev. Steve Lindsley's health and wellness."  Oh boy. 

I understand that Steve Linsley, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, checked into Forsyth Hospital about 7:00 AM today.  When you talk with other staff members today, They may like to know this.  You may need to call FPC for update.  I got this off of Facebook today.

That was the initial email, which was then forwarded by its recipient to God-knows-how many people.  Now Bob's phone call and the one that followed made sense - as well as the third one that came in while I was reading the email.  What didn't make sense was where someone had gotten the idea that I was sick and had gone to the hospital.

I got this off of Facebook today.  Who in the world would post something on Facebook about me being in the hospital?  I mean, I had been there earlier that morning to visit a church member who had gone in the previous night, but....

Uh-oh.

Like a lot of Facebookers and smart-phone users, I use a little app called Foursquare to "check in" at various places.  It lets folks in the social media world know where I am.  Almost always I'll leave a comment explaining what I'm up to: Checking in on a church member.  Visiting an old friend.  But for some reason I didn't that morning when I opened Foursquare on my iphone. 

So this is what appeared in my Facebook news feed for all to see:

Lesson learned: in the social media world, always leave a comment explaining what you're doing when you "check in" at a hospital.  And be thankful for the kindness and concern of people who call to check on you if you don't.

 

 

A good week in Chicago

I’ve said it before – I love airports.  There’s something about the random humanity that fascinates me. I’m in an airport as I write this – Chicago O’Hare, to be exact – at some concourse restaurant grabbing a hot dog. Aptly titled “the Chicago.”  I like the way my waiter pronounced it when he brought it to me – “CHI-cago,” not “SHI-cago” like us non-residents are prone to say.  I gladly stand corrected.

I’ve spent the past week in the Windy City at McCormick Theological Seminary.  You know those people who have elaborate plans to tour all major league ballparks?  A few years back I decided to do the same thing with Presbyterian Church (USA) seminaries. I know, not as exciting; but as I'm proving at this very moment, you can still get a hot dog. Anyway, there are nine or ten of them, depending on how many you count in the mix; and including the three I attended for formal schooling I’ve been to six: Union (Richmond, VA), Columbia (Decatur/Atlanta), Pittsburgh, Louisville, Austin and now McCormick in Chicago.  I’m always amazed by the diversity of the schools and the people associated with them, but also all the things they share in common. Every school in their own unique way is making a difference.

I usually try to attend some specific event, like a conference, but if that’s not available I’ll spend a few days just studying and reading.  The latter was my intention when, back in the summer, I pulled up McCormick’s web site.  And then my eyes caught a little blurb about their brand new Certification in Environmental Ministries and Leadership.  Anyone who knows me can certainly understand my immediate interest.  I was getting spousal permission and plane tickets within days.

The program is spearheaded by four faculty and involved ten participants from all over the country and beyond (a gentleman from north of the border joined us).  We met for three days, two of which were seminar-style discussions and one “field trip” day to a local conservation.  Lots of incredible conversation and insight.  In many ways its getting back to some of the core Biblical and theological emphases on "creation-care" that we seem to have lost in recent years - captured quite eloquently in a comment I remember someone making in our local curbside recycling brouhaha last spring: that "God loves people, not the earth" (there's this little thing called John 3:16 you ought to check out...)  It's helping me fine-tune my perspectives and passions on the issue so I can do my part to help the faithful  reclaim an important conversation that's been sorely neglected.

Anyway, this was part one of two trips - we’ll be back in early 2012, after which we’ll have a project to complete. And as much as I enjoyed the program itself, I also fell in love with Chicago.  The seminary is located in Hyde Park, on the south side of town.  I came to love the neighborhoods and my daily walks through the University of Chicago campus to some friends who graciously opened up their guest room for me.  It was also cool to reconnect with some old Mount Airy peeps (and a former Mediocre Bad Guy band member) who moved up here a year or so ago.  Hyde Park is a fantastic place, bustling with activity amidst old-school buildings and homes, ornate trees, and two – yes, TWO – organic coffee shops.  Take that, Starbucks.

Lots to think about as I board my flight home in an hour – including my strategy on how to get to my parked car as quickly as possible so I can to book it home in time to make a Mediocre Bad Guys gig.  Enjoy the pics that follow, and pay special note to the incredible rainbow that greeted me this morning as I prepared to depart.  I'll take it as a sign that this week was time well spent.

  Downtown Chicago skyline via Grant Park on a gorgeous day

 

Chicago Harbor. Bet this looks different in January.

 

Home of a certain famous Chicago residence who currently resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington DC. About two blocks from the seminary. Pleasantly waved to the Secret Service guy parked across the street before snapping this pic.

  Went on a jog one morning and headed six blocks east to Lake Michican. Got there in time to see the sunrise. Add this to my collection of awesome sunrise running pics.

 

Our Certification group visiting Glacial Park about two hours outside Chicago

 

So I was walking to my last class Saturday morning with suitcase in tow right in the middle of a rainshower. Kind of a pain, until the sun came out and I stopped at 55th Street to see this. If it's not a sign of the promise, at the very least it's a Starbucks PR dream.

Greatest of These

I don't usually try to write a song in a week. Heck, I'm lucky if I can pen a decent tune in a month.  But sometimes the creative muse flows freely, as it did this past week, and I don't ask why when it does.

The chorus came first; I started humming it in the car on Tuesday.  The rest came later that afternoon. It's not done yet - more tweaking to come, I'm sure.  I know for certain I'll transpose it to piano, not only for a better overall feel but mainly because the open tuning on the guitar sounds too much like this silliness, and I just can't have that.

I sang this today in worship at the end of my sermon.  It's not the greatest quality, but not too shabby for a lapel mic and standalone (props to Mark Brown for his A/V acumen).  I hope to use it when I lead music for the 2012 Montreat Collegiate Conference too, on piano.  I think it'll work nicely as a singalong.

So - a song in progress. Let me know your thoughts.  Lyrics below...

Greatest Of These (worship 7.24.2011) by stevelindsley

I may speak with the tongues of the angels
I may give my all away
I may move the mountains with my belief
But if I don't have love - If I don't have love...
I can use my power for selfish gain
Living like I wanna live
I can die a martyr and a saint
But if I don't have love - If I don't have love...
I once couldn't see
Now I believe, I believe

In faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love
Faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love, greatest is love

When the world defines you by what you do
Love will show you whose you are
All a part of God's great family
This is why we love, this is why we love
Battles rage and lines are drawn in the sand
Cause we learn to live in fear
Love comes down with the promise of something new
It’s greater than the fear, love is greater than the fear
Sometimes we can't see
Lord help us believe, believe

In faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love
Faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love
Greatest is love

Once I knew what I was looking for, I found it

Today was our Youth Sunday service.  This is where the youth of our church conduct and lead pretty much every aspect of Sunday morning worship.  There may be an adult or two behind the scenes doing something, but for the most part the youth run with it.  Without fail, it's always an amazing worship experience.  It's one of the very few times I fear for my job security.

But something was up this morning.  Something was afoot.  And I couldn't put my finger on it.  It's just that folks were acting strange around me.  I sat with the youth and adult advisors running through things in the sanctuary early in the morning, just kind of hanging out; and I got this strange feeling that I wasn't wanted there.  I can pick up vibes like that.  So I went back to my office to look through the morning bulletin.  And that's when I was struck by the title for the anthem the kids were going to sing.  It looked pretty hifalutin' for a youth-led worship service:

"I ancora haven' la t ha trovato che I' ricerca di m."

French, perhaps?  I checked Google Translate.  No luck.  By that time the worship service was almost about to start, so I left the office and headed to the sanctuary to sit with my family (a rare treat).

Turns out it's Italian for "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" - a U2 classic.  That's what they were singing.  And while it fit in perfectly with their worship theme of having questions and doubts but remaining strong in the faith, they also did it as a surprise for me.   You don't have to know me very long to pick up on the fact that I'm a pretty big U2 fan.

They did great.  Apparently they had worked on it for weeks; with the help of some adults and our new music director.  All without me finding out.  You gotta like that.  There were about 25 of them singing and playing away.  It was priceless the way they smiled at me as the song began; as I made note of the familar chord progression and remembered the service theme and kind of put two and two together. 

What was really amazing was hearing our young people sing it.  As I mention in this previous blog post, contrary to initial impressions, this song is really a song of tremendous faith and belief, despite the title.  Or actually, because of the title.  We're faithful, we believe, but we're not satisfied.  There's still work to do.  We still haven't found what we're looking for.  To have our youth up there singing this was an amazing testimony.  It got some rare Presbyterian applause at the end.  And I wasn't the only one who found myself a little teary-eyed.

I encourage you to check out the entire worship service HERE.  At the very least, devote the next four minutes of your life to listening to our Beacons singing this song below.  Thanks, guys, for the surprise!  In so many ways, that is something you never fail to do.

Beacons "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" by stevelindsley

My journey with Amendment B, and why I'm glad it's over

It was the spring of 1997 when presbyteries across the country voted on what was then known as "Amendment B."  The language, which was eventually approved by a majority of presbyteries and ratified as part of our church's constitution, would do something that had never been done before: single out one issue by which those seeking to be ordained as ministers, elders or deacons would be measured:

Those who are called to office in the church are to lead a life in obedience to Scripture and in conformity to the historic confessional standards of the church. Among these standards is the requirement to live either in fidelity within the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman, or chastity in singleness. Persons refusing to repent of any self-acknowledged practice which the confessions call sin shall not be ordained and/or installed as deacons, elders, or ministers of the Word and Sacrament.

Meanwhile, as presbyteries were debating and voting across the country, I was blissfully lost in the seminary world as a third-year student, wrapping up my last semester.  My focus was on papers, final exams, and most importantly landing that all-important first call.  I was marginally aware of the politics taking place in the greater church I was preparing to serve, but I was told two things by reliable people.  First, this new amendment, if approved, would not affect me, since I was not gay.  Second, it was doubtful churches and presbytery examination committees would ask me anything about it in the call process, since the vote was still in progress.

The "reliable people" were wrong on both accounts.  The new amendment very much affected me as a life-long heterosexual, as its original authors chose not to use direct language like "gay" and "lesbian" in their exclusiveness.  Instead they opted for a convoluted "process-of-elimination" lingo that read more like an advanced calculus problem.  Single and married folks were unwittingly dragged into the mix.  "Chastity in singleness" - who still used the word "chastity," anyway?  Besides, it wasn't like I was planning on suddenly beginning a life of hedonism upon being ordained. So what was the point?

They were also wrong about the topic being off-limits in interviews.  I was meeting with a presbytery's Examination Committee, pursuing what would become my first call.  The meeting was going pretty much as I was told it would: pleasant conversations about theology, polity, what kind of pastor I'd be.  Near the end, though, a crotchety old man brought up the Amendment B vote that was making its way across the country.  This particular presbytery had already voted, I was informed, but how would I have voted if I had been a member there?  He practically had "litmus test" written on his nametag.  Thanks a lot, reliable seminary people. 

The "Fidelity and Chastity" amendment, as it's been called, has been with me for my entire time in ministry.  In fact, I guess we kind of entered the ministry together.  And while I've found a home for myself here, our denomination never got comfortable enough with Amendment B to let it move in to the guest room.  Critics have consistently pursued courses of action to have it overturned.  Supporters have held to it rigidly and threated a mass-exodus if removed.  The debate has brought out lots of the bad in the church: division, vitriol, mistrust.  Oddly enough, it's brought out a little of the good too: passion, commitment, a desire to seek God's will.  But mostly the bad.

There have been attempts to remove or replace the amendment in the fourteen years since, but all have failed.  Until this past Tuesday, May 10th.  That was when Twin Cities Presbytery in Minnesota became the 87th presbytery - a majority - to vote in favor of replacing Amendment B of 1997 with Amendment 10-A:

Standards for ordained service reflect the church’s desire to submit joyfully to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in all aspects of life. The governing body responsible for ordination and/or installation shall examine each candidate’s calling, gifts, preparation, and suitability for the responsibilities of office. The examination shall include, but not be limited to, a determination of the candidate’s ability and commitment to fulfill all requirements as expressed in the constitutional questions for ordination and installation. Governing bodies shall be guided by Scripture and the confessions in applying standards to individual candidates.

You'll notice the language is quite different - and language matters. Gone are terms that shamelessly exposed our obsession with sex.  Instead we find authority being placed where it should've been all along - submission to "the Lordship of Jesus Christ" (you'll note that "Jesus" is notably absent from the former amendment).  Gone is language that limited and restricted how churches and presbyteries engage in the call process.  Instead, those agencies are fully empowered to more effectively do the work they're entrusted with. Gone is rhetoric that defined ordination standards in negative terms (who is not qualified).  And the obvious: gone is the air of exclusivity that has weighed down the church like a ball and chain.  Instead we find a more inclusive mindset regarding who can serve the church as an ordained minister, elder or deacon.

Now - it goes without saying that there will be some who won't welcome this change.  Human sexuality, for most folks, is one of those "dig-in-your-heels," "no compromise" kinds of issues.  There are very few fence-riders.  Already there have been threats of individuals, even entire churches, jumping ship and leaving the denomination.  These actions, if followed through on, would be ill-advised.

For one, it's not like they're suddenly going to start busing ordained gays and lesbians from some undisclosed location to churches all over the country.  This amendment does not force churches or presbyteries to call homosexual persons to ministry - it only removes the prohibition against it.  In essence it fully empowers the governing bodies of our denomination entrusted with calling and examining ordained individuals to do their job.  Does this mean some may still rule an individual unfit for ministry because of their sexual orientation?  Yes.  But it also enables those same bodies to call a person based on their complete gifts for ministry, sexual preference notwithstanding.  Either way, the decision is completely up to the church or presbytery who is meeting with this person and considering their ability to serve.

Besides, while a lot will change with Amendment 10-A, a lot won't.  And ironically, one of the things that won't change is the ordination of gays and lesbians!  For, as pointed out by my Presbyterian minister colleage in this blog post, we already have gays and lesbians serving as ministers, elders and deacons.  Every denomination does!  Presbyterians have been ordaining them for years, even during the tenure of Amendment B.  That's because in some instances the individual has remained silent about their orientation.  In others, those around them have engaged in a sort of ecclesiastical "Don't ask, don't tell" - because they understood the power and significance of a call to ministry.

And that, for me, is what it all boils down to; and why I personally welcome the change and the language of 10-A.  I hold very sacred the notion of a calling to ministry.  I know first-hand what it's like to receive that call; how it brews inside you over many years, how you catch glimpses of it at various points in your life.  It is part of who you are like the cells in your body or the breath in your lungs.  You can't escape it, you can't rationalize your way out of it.  It is who you are.  And to have a blanket denial of someone's call built into our church's constitution, where one issue is singled out over all others - well, that's never sat well with me.  Especially when it involves something that's also part of who a person is.  Just as one doesn't "choose" their sexual orientation, one doesn't "choose" to be called to ministry.  It chooses you. 

And so I welcome 10-A; not because I claim to know every nuance of God's will, but precisely because I don't. I welcome 10-A; not because I lack faith in the way our denomination discerns those who are called to ministry, but precisely because I have full confidence in it.

Still, I know this decision is painful for some, in the same way that the decision to keep the old language the past fourteen years was painful for others. I pray for those who are pained by this decision, and I hope we continue having respectful conversations about human sexuality.  I've posted this blog post on my church's website in hopes that it will clarify what this new amendment means - and doesn't mean - as a member of First Presbyterian Church and the PC(USA). 

And when it comes to those who are thinking of walking - well, I've thought and prayed a lot about this over the years, knowing this day would probably come.  And I think I've figured out what my response will be.  I won't try to talk them out of leaving, nor will I attempt to change what they think or believe.  I don't think either is the pastoral thing to do.

Instead I will simply ask for six months: a six-month moratorium on the decision to leave; six months to continue worshipping, serving and being an active part of our church together.  Six months of Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, Bible studies and Sunday school, fellowship meals and missions.  I'll invite them to meet with me when those six months are over.  And if at that time they can honestly say they've felt a palapable change in our church as a result of 10-A, that our particular congregation is no longer witnessing to the resurrected Jesus Christ, then they will leave with my blessing.  If, however, they don't feel any different about our church, if they come to the conclusion that God is still God and the church continues to live out God's mission as it always has, then I will suggest that perhaps an amendment that changed ordination standards was not an amendment that destroyed the church.

This is a time of change for the church I love, and change is never easy.  There will always be those who will choose to hold on to their fears. I, for one, will hold on to hope - because our God is a God of outlandish hope.  I invite you to hold on to that hope with me too.

****************

(NOTE: Below is a message from Cynthia Bolbach, Moderator of the 219th General Assembly of the PCUSA, about the ratification of Amendment 10-A. I encourage you to take the 3.26 to watch it.)

(VIDEO LINK HERE)

The Counterweight Movement

This is gonna be one of those "what-it's-like-being-a-preacher" posts, so if that's not your cup of tea I understand, and you are free to skip this entry and return at a later date.

But then again, maybe you shouldn't.  Maybe the very fact that you aren't inclined to read a "pastoral post" is precisely the reason you should read on.

See, today has been one of those days when I realize I'm not like a lot of other pastors.  Perhaps the whole playing in a rock band thing and wearing Crocs out in public should've clued me in already.  But more and more I have those moments, particularly in conversations with folks or scanning the Facebook news feed of my friends, when I realize I'm either tremendously out of step with mainline Christianity or on the cutting edge of it.  And I think my location has something to do with it - small-town rural south - although I get the sense that it's not just here.

More and more I've come to understand that my ideas about faith, and how that faith informs the way I live, can be quite different from the way others' ideas of faith inform the way they live.  And it's less about beliefs and more about how we feel about the things we believe in.  It often puts me in an odd position of being "the other voice;" the "contrary-to" representative.  I get the Greg Brady treatment: Gee, I never thought about it that way before.  

Does this make any sense?

And it hit me today: sometimes I feel like a counterweight. Or, more accurately, part of a counterweight movement in the Christian faith, balancing out some of the "cultural Christianity" so prevalent in our society with a more nuanced perspective.  I find myself apologizing for the actions of other Christians: I'm sorry for that church in Kentucky who is protesting at that funeral - that's not how all of us act. I'm sorry for that Alabama governor who said he can't work with anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior - that's not how all of us think.  And it's not that I asked to be part of this; it just kind of happened.  This movement has been around for a while but tends to rise to the surface when the pendulum swings too far the other way; a sort of natural reaction to steady the scales a bit.

I feel like I'm part of this movement when I'm having conversations with folks and realize how starkly different we perceive the same elements of Christian faith:

There are those, for instance, who believe that God is to be feared and they should live fearfully.  I believe God is to be loved and that we should live in hope.

There are those who think that God is outside their grief and loss and wants us to steer clear of it and "be strong."  I believe God is smack-dab in the middle of it and wants us to go right into the messiness with him.

There are those who believe the world is coming to an end. I believe God is in the process of renewing and restoring the world.

There are those who believe God is on America's side.  I believe God is on every side, and we're the ones who've made such a big deal about the whole side thing.

There are those who believe the ultimate goal in our faith journey is to reach that glorious moment when we finally choose God.  I believe the more important "choosing" is when God chooses us - and, in fact, that God already has.

There are those who believe God is out to get us. I believe.....well, I believe that's absolute crap, to be blunt. And it pains me to know there are actually people out there who go through each day with this weighing them down.

There are those who believe we're meant to identify with the prodigal son in the parable by the same name - that we're the ones who've screw up, that God forgives us and throws a party and everything's great.  I believe when Jesus told the parable he meant for us to identify with the older brother - stewing out in the fields because the party is not for us but for those we feel aren't worthy of the honor, and we have to decide if we're going or not.

There are those who believe God's primary role is to be judgmental. I believe God's primary role is to love unconditionally.

There are those who believe the church is God's little "country club" and in the business of determining who is "in" and who is "out."  I believe the church's doors should be open to everyone. Period.

There are those who believe that Christianity is only about heaven and hell.  I believe it's about this life as much as the next one.

There are those who believe that "real Christians" are of one political party and not another.  I believe Jesus' message was political, but that it supercedes our political categories.

There are those who believe that being a "believer" is enough.  I believe that being a "follower" is the other side of the coin.

There are those who believe that the Bible is literal. I believe it's inspired (read Song of Solomon 4:1-5 and tell me that's supposed to be taken literally).

There are those who believe we are held accountable for our actions.  I believe that too.  But I also believe in grace.

Sometimes - many times - I feel like a counterweight.  The good news is that, as I look around, I realize I'm not alone.  Perhaps you're part of the movement too.  And if you're not - especially if you're one who initially thought of skipping this post - at least know there's a different way of looking at the faith than what you've heard from some people or seen on TV.  At least know that we're here.

Random retreat thoughts

I'm leading music for a middle school presbytery retreat this weekend.  I don't do this sort of thing a lot anymore, but I enjoy it when the opportunity comes along.  They are always frantic, fast-paced gatherings of a mass of kids (in this case, close to 250) and their adult advisors who gladly subject themselves to wild craziness and two night of minimal sleep.

As busy as the schedule is at these things, I've found this particular retreat to be strangely restful.  Last week was so busy I barely had time to think.  But now I've had time to catch my breath and do some of that thinking stuff.  Here's a few thoughts currently rolling around in my head:

Youth are not just the leaders of tomorrow, but of today too.  And this is no slight to the more “well-seasoned” folks in our midst.  You gotta have both in the church.  The keynote, or message, of the weekend is being led entirely by the senior high youth council.  In fact, other than me, you hardly see an adult up front.  Of course they're behind the scenes, hard at work.  But these senior highs are giving some wonderful, well-thought out messages.  And the thing is, the younger kids are listening intently.  I imagine a big part of that is because the people speaking to them are only a few years older.

Songleading and performing are two very different things, and you don't want to get them mixed up.  I do both in my musical ventures, and it's important to know which is which.  The greatest feeling as a songleader is that point when the group takes the song and makes it their own, giving it life beyond anything you could have given it on your own.  And that's when you know you're doing what you're supposed to do.

Retreats are always better in the mountains.  I'm showing my bias here, I know.  I grew up going to Montreat so I can't help it.  I've been to retreats at the beach and I love the beach.  But the mountains take it to a whole different level.  There's something about breathing that cool crisp air into your lungs in the morning, the meeting auditorium surrounded by twelve-foot high rhododendron bushes, the mountain hikes in the afternoon.  It seems to center you a little more.

I'm not able to sustain the same high energy level at these things that I used to.  Yep, I'm getting old.  This used to bother me a little, but it doesn't anymore.  I just go with the flow and have fun with it.  And I make sure I get good rest at night.  Earplugs help.

You never know what people are bringing to retreats when they get here.  And I'm not talking about the stuff they pack in their suitcases. I'm talking about the things going on in their life that travel with them here in the vans and buses.  It's so easy to put a mass of kids in a stereotypical category and make all kinds of generalizations.  But when you do that you fail to see the 6th grader who is bullied day in and day out and is near their breaking point, or the 7th grade girl whose parents told her Friday afternoon before she left that they were getting a divorce, or even the adult who found out this past week that his job is getting downsized. You don't actually "see" any of this – it's not like it's written out as a slogan on their t-shirt.  But they're there, and there's no telling how something they encounter over the weekend will impact them. Every interaction is an opportunity for some good to be done.

As bad as my college football team is doing these days, it's a blessing I'm somewhat out of touch with what's going on in the weekend football world.  This is when it's nice not to have easy access to a TV. Ignorance is indeed bliss.

As much as I love being part of these excursions, there are two things I always miss.  The first is my church.  It's the pastor's curse – or blessing – that this uncomfortable sensation comes over us when Sunday morning rolls around and we're not standing in the pulpit of our church.  It's a very odd feeling, like I've slept late and missed the school bus.  So I'm always glad when Monday morning arrives and I'm back in my familiar routine at the church office, or the following Sunday when I'm once again among the people God has called me to love.

Most of all, I miss the family.  I just got off the phone with them.  The boys are supposed to be cleaning up their rooms, my wife tells me, and their success in doing this will determine if they go over to a friend's house later.  They've been on so-so behavior, and my wife had to call them down a time or two.  It's the usual mundane stuff that happens in our household every single weekend.  And I hate I'm not there for it.

So does my wife.

Dumbed-down religion

There's been a lot of talk this week about recent findings from a study by the Pew Forum on Religious Religion and Public Life, indicating that atheists and agnostics know more about religion than religious people do.  You can read about it here if you'd like.  Of course, there are many factors that go into putting a study like this together - everything from the quality of the questions to the pool of people surveyed to whether the survey really shows what it claims to show.  I'm not entirely sure this recent study fully meets each of those criteria (more on that later).

That being said, I think there are some issues the study reveals that are definitely worth our consideration.  Religious folk often count those in the atheist and agnostic camps as "ignorant," when in truth they are anything but.  The atheist/agnostic friends I have are by and large well-educated individuals; and a large part of the reason for their unbelief or skepticism comes from what they know about the tenets of organized religion and their conscious choice not to accept them.

That stands in contrast to the other side of the coin.  While there certainly is a tradition of well-educated people of faith (in which I'd like to count my Presbyterian heritage, thank you very much), what seems to be more important for some is what they believe about the Bible and their faith, not necessarily what they know about them.  As someone who teaches Bible in a community college setting, I come up against this all the time.  There is always a segment of students who appear to have little desire to learn anything new about the Bible; they only want to further solidify what they already believe to be true. "New learnings," for them, often amounts to nothing more than a reinforcement of personally accepted and pre-approved dogma.  Anything that falls outside that is discarded, or at the very least hashed back to me on a test or paper simply to secure a passing grade.

These are extreme cases, of course.  Still, the lack of desire among a large segment of the faithful to engage in on-going, deliberate and comprehensive religious education is a real issue.  Just ask any Christian educator and they'll tell you about dipping numbers in Sunday school attendance and Bible studies, and a general apathy toward things of that nature.  Adults often say they've "learned it all already" and offer this as the reason they don't take advantate of educational and nurture ministries in congregations.  When, in fact, what they often "know" are religious concepts and not religious facts.  And the two are not the same.

Case in point: want to take a guess at the number of religious people you know who think the phrase "God helps those who help themselves" is a direct quote from scripture?  I bet it's a lot.  Maybe you think it is, too.  The fact of the matter is that it's nowhere to be found in the Bible.  In fact, it could be argued that it's not even good Christian theology.  Or think about those who believe that the depiction of the apocalypse as presented in the famous Left Behind series is biblical.  I actually had a student in my New Testament class one semester tell me that reading Revelation was confusing, so she was glad she had the "Left Behind" series on her bookshelf because it helped Revelation make sense.  When people turn to a hyped-up fictional book series written to attract readership and make a profit as a way to help the Bible make sense, we've got issues. 

And it's not just our own faith that we need to be educated about.  As the current fervor over all things Muslim has taught us, ignorance can be extremely dangerous.  One man's ignorance in Florida a month or so ago just about sparked an international malestrom, as the threat of burning holy books tends to do.  Ignorance feeds fear, and vice versa.  Knowing the facts about all religions helps diffuse those combustible situations and makes us better believers in our own right.  And I, for one, believe people hunger for this.  A few years ago our church held a study series where we invited people from faith traditions outside our own to come speak.  The Catholic priest came.  So did a Rabbi and a Muslim doctor in town, among others.  Attendance for that series was one of the largest we've ever had, and people still talk about how much they enjoyed it.

Suffice to say that this survey has sparked a lot of great conversation.  And perhaps the best thing to do is to actually take the survey yourself.  You can do it right HERE.  As I indicated before, I have some reservations about the survey - for one thing, I think it could've served its purpose a whole lot better had it been longer than 15 questions.  Still, I bet you'll find that you may not know as much as you think you know. 

As the old saying goes, there's always room to learn.  When it comes to religion, the stakes are too high not to.