When you want to study the overall health of a society, you don’t estimate the quality of life of people 50 and over; you ask if the kids are alright. And, historically speaking, America has never had more kids in poverty, more kids without access to healthcare, more kids chronically medicated, more kids with diagnosed mental health issues, more kids on semi-pro traveling soccer teams, more kids with student debt, more kids unemployed, more kids working unpaid internships, and more kids homeless, childless, and savings-less.
What if we sought to take an exhaustive accounting of everything we do as a faith community: from worship to potlucks to Sunday school socials, and asked, not “Does this bring ME joy?,” but something a bit more meaningful, even Christian.
For churches to survive it might mean (realizing that I say this as a white dude with too much education) finally coming to grips with the fact that white dudes with too much education have gotten us into the mess we’re currently enjoying as a Christian movement in America. Because of that, maybe the only way we can fix it is by handing the microphone to those who know what it’s like to be powerless, ignored, marginalized, poor, desperate, and searching for a “yes” in a sea of “no.”
Despite what our economy has taught all of us about the methods of production, you can’t outsource self-sacrifice on behalf of your faith to a Bangladeshi factory worker or to an overly-educated white dude in a robe or skinny jeans or both.
Our ability “to afford” is a moral compass we use to navigate an incredibly complex milieu of decisions. Affordability isn’t just a component of our moral decision making; it has become the very whole of our morality.
Recently, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship announced that they would be “right-sizing” their organizational structure. Necessary questions about budgetary management, fiscal responsibility and institutional culture aside, the elephant in the room is that moderate to progressive Baptist churches are not financially supporting the work of CBF ministry partners globally.
I want my son to receive the gift that comes from being a part of a family and a community of people who practice the ancient art of (sometimes foolishly) depending upon a divine force rather than the invisible hand of the stock market for worth, direction, hope and stability.
For those of us who grew up Baptist in the Southeast, the dichotomy between our faith and our political life isn’t a recent aberration. Instead, it’s the manifestation of a longstanding unwillingness to unite these two parts of our souls.
Quitting your job is scary and hard and weird and exciting and nauseating, but when you’re a pastor, it’s a lot like leaving a cult. For most people, the phrase “You know, it was just time” is a sufficient…