Here’s my latest response in the local newspaper dialog on doubt and faith I’ve been having with Rev. Dean Lueking.
If you want to see the whole dialog (which has been going on for almost two years now) I have links to it here. It began when I wrote about why I don’t go to church anymore for the newspaper. Dean, who I didn’t know at the time, wrote an elegant gracious response. I wrote back and it turned into a dialog.
We’ve continued writing back and forth in the newspaper since then and occasionally meet to chat (when he’s in town - he travels a lot, doing ministry around the world for the Lutheran church).
Dean, I was interested to read your thoughts about The Way as it applies to people inside prisons. ['The Way' reaches behind bars, Viewpoints, May 28]
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In his most recent response to me in our local newspaper dialog, Rev Dean Lueking asked:
What reaches your soul that we ought to know more about? What steadies your steps as you experience The Way, not as an armchair exercise but as a one-foot-down-after-the-other daily walking the talk?
I liked that question because it gave me an opportunity to mention Off The Map in my response - which the newspaper editor (Ken Trainor) then used in the title: One Way to find The Way is Off The Map.
Dean and I get together from time to time
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Yesterday I found a short response in the local newspaper to what I wrote last week.
Posted in Why I don't go to Church Anymore | 6 Comments »The way, the truth and the following
“I’m as much a follower as ever, but what inspires and encourages me to follow has changed.” [The Way is important, not who owns it, Viewpoints, Oct. 31]. Same here. I once was “found” but now am following.
Jesus talked endlessly about following him (over 33 times I believe) and once about being born again.
Following is more fun.
One more thing: If you were God, would it really matter to you if (mere) humans decided to assign credit to you or would you prefer they just did the right thing?
Jim Henderson
Submitted at WednesdayJournalOnline.com
This is my latest response in the local newspaper dialog with Dean Lueking, printed yesterday.
Dean, you’re amazing: I wonder if you realize how rare you are? [Just so we know what we're getting into, Viewpoints, Sept.19] I can’t think of any other Christian who has worked so hard to find common ground and connection points with me.
I hope you’ll be encouraged to hear your persistence is paying off! I read your latest response and found myself thinking, what’s not to like? The Way you wrote about: I believe in it too.
I like how you described the Way:
That can range from taking in homeless to reconciling a broken marriage, serving guests at a hospitable table to helping Katrina survivors rebuild battered homes, making time for companionship with sick and lonely people to making civic and corporate life a notch better despite heavy odds.
I’ve found lots of people who believe in the Way. Some are Christians, some are not. Christians equate the Way with Jesus, just as you did. Others who believe in the Way tend to regard Jesus as having a key role in defining and publicizing the Way. They would agree with you that his example is worth following. But they aren’t willing to say the Way exclusively belongs to Jesus, or that he is the Way.
I find myself wondering: Does Jesus (if he still exists) care whether people equate the Way with him, as long as people are following it?
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This is my latest letter in the local newspaper, which is a response to George and Mary.
George, yes, I do understand that although I found freedom by leaving church, you and others find freedom through your involvement with church. You could have decided, “This means Helen simply went to the ‘wrong’ church. She needs to switch to mine.” I very much appreciate that you didn’t go there. At the same time, I appreciate your kind invitation to me, one Sunday last year, to attend your church. An invitation is very different from putting pressure on me by implying “there is something wrong with you unless you like the church I like.”
Mary, I see you have questions and haven’t read the whole dialog. You can find it by going to the Wednesday Journal’s website www.wednesdayjournalonline.com and searching on Rev. Lueking’s and my last names. The dialog began July 5 last year.
In particular, if you read more, I hope you will see nature is not my God any more than ice cream is. I enjoy nature and ice cream, but that’s very different from worshiping them!
Admittedly, I may be intentionally avoiding the certainty you seek from me. I used to want it. I thought I was on an intellectual quest for truth, not realizing I was as least as much on an emotional quest to feel safe and secure. The emotional quest pulled me towards an overly simplistic way of looking at humanity: my group is good, yours is bad!
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There’s a letter in today’s local newspaper about the dialog I’ve been having with Rev. Lueking:
I must confess I haven’t been following this dialogue “religiously” over the past year, but these last two exchanges captured my interest because neither commentator really addressed the opposing view. This, in my opinion, is the perennial problem in religious discussions. We seem to skirt around the issues and cover our opinions with flowery (Hopkins - can’t get much more flowery than him!) language that doesn’t “answer” the core desire or motivation for soul-searching.
While I personally don’t presume to have all “the answers,” I do feel that explaining viewpoints more specifically would add to the dialogue. Come right out and say, Mildenhall, “Nature is my God”–and Lueking, “God is all about nature, freedom and caring.” Get down to the specifics of your beliefs instead of hauling the outfits in or out of the closet or hiding behind poetry. Quote scripture, for “heaven’s sake”!
Throw away the outfit in the closet. Be open to the “new” take on religious spirituality that encompasses nature, breathing (freedom), social consciousness and community.
Let’s get down to brass tacks.
Thanks for getting me started.
But…Nature isn’t my God! Oh well. Perhaps I will write back to her.
Posted in Why I don't go to Church Anymore | 3 Comments »Today’s local newspaper includes Rev. Lueking’s response to what I wrote last week (The heart of the matter):
Religion: a straitjacket or bright wings?
Here’s part of his response:
Your summary of your last 10 years’ experience - of the stultifying effect of institutionalized Christianity as you experienced it (”I had to turn inwards continually to thank Jesus or ask him for advice”) - is a sad story but true nevertheless. You likened it to having to wear an outfit that did not fit you well, all too constraining, coercive, joyless - the very opposite of freedom.
What you describe is a religious straitjacket, not the garment of beauty, holiness and durability that serves well in all seasons of life and outlasts the vagaries of legalistic religion. Jesus himself had to confront it, and it is the ongoing bane of the church.
Rev. Lueking then went on to share a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins. I love that he did that even though our points of view differ. He’s one of the most eloquent Christians (maybe the most eloquent) I’ve come across. What’s not to like about that?
Posted in Why I don't go to Church Anymore | 14 Comments »This is my latest response in the newspaper dialog between me and Rev. Dean Lueking. It’s in the online Wednesday Journal already. I’m not sure whether it’s in the print edition today or not, since some submissions go online before they have room to run them in print.
In his most recent response to me [What shall we do with this cross? Viewpoints, March 27], fittingly published in the run-up to Easter, Rev. Dean Lueking shares what is special to him about the story of Jesus dying on the cross and rising again.
Dean, as I read your thoughts, beautifully articulated as always, I became dissatisfied with my own part in this conversation. I had the feeling “there’s something I’m forgetting to tell Dean.” I sensed it was important - in fact it’s the heart of the matter for me.
I lived in England in the countryside until I was 22. A perfect summer’s day there is sunny and pleasantly warm, the sky a beautiful deep blue. Usually the frequent wet days in between ensure a profusion of color and growth everywhere around. An amazing variety of wildflowers compete for space on unmanaged fields and every small grass verge.
I loved to be outside on those perfect summer days. School was out and my time was my own. I was connected with the world around me in a beautifully simple way. I drank it in and felt happy and free.
There was a simplicity and joy and freedom I had then which I lost along the way as I walked deeper and deeper into institutionalized Christianity. I didn’t realize it was gone until I started to walk away and rediscovered it again.
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This is my latest response in the newspaper dialog I’ve been having with Rev Lueking.
Dean, in your most recent response to me, you asked about sharing with me what you have learned from people who live in other countries. I would be happy to read about what they’ve taught you.
You also asked: “Would you or anybody else make up a God who comes to us in the form of a suffering servant, an itinerant rabbi who was nailed to a Roman cross for the sins of the world? Would you invent a risen Christ who turned traitorous disciples into trustworthy witnesses with Good News to spread, down through the centuries, even to us in our time?”
I think you were implying the answer is “No.” However, I can’t categorically say that no one would make up a God like that. People are creative, and the stories they make up are sometimes strange, unusual, moving and beautiful.
My own feelings about this story are deep and very mixed. I see beauty in the sacrificial love and humility in it. On the other hand, it’s very hard for me to accept that the only way God could rescue humanity would be to require the bloodshed and brutality of the cross. That part drives me to wonder: Is this really the best story that ever could be told, or is it only the best story anyone could tell 2,000 years ago? Which would mean it’s long overdue for an update, since people have learned many things in the last 2,000 years. I apologize if that sounds very irreverent. I don’t know how to stop asking these questions without giving up a part of what it means to me to be human.
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