Fear

Michael Yaconelli, in Dangerous Wonder, suggests that American Christians have lost their fear of God. While years ago I tried to talk about God as our friend, as our lover, as the One who loves us no matter what, I see what Yaconelli is getting out: familiarity and lack of fear of God is not always a good thing.

This is dangerous ground: I want to be as clear as possible. It is so easy to get comfortable with my relationship with God that I cannot fathom a God different from the one I have shaped. I think this is probably true of lots of American Christians. Watching the occasional religious broadcast on TV, I either hear harsh judgments of secular society (inevitably made up of “liberal,” whatever they are) or what I call the “buddy-nature” of God, where God bargains with us to make us rich. Either way is wrong. Big time.

Christianity is based on the teachings and life of one Jewish teacher named Jesus. What Jesus taught and how he lived had nothing to do with huge buildings, getting rich, owning lots of stuff, cheating people out of that same stuff, power for powerful people, nationality (not even traditional Jewish nationality of his time), or anything else on which modern American Christianity has gotten in its sight.

One of the things that has always terrified my about my faith is that if I live like Jesus, I’ve got a lot of things to give up. Luckily, I don’t collect jewelry; no, my material desires to toward musical instruments. I don’t have desire for a motorboat; my car doesn’t have to be the newest or coolest or fastest. The most expensive clothing bothers me not at all. Owning a house in the right neighborhood is a boring thought that moves me very little.

I did spend a boatload of money on my education, though, and I’m occasionally quite proud of it. It was important to me on my last car purchase to buy a hybrid, and while I may shyly say, “I wanted to go greener,” the truth is that I think, “HAH! I got a green car (in more ways than just its environmental impact).” I’m quiet about the make of my guitars, but I love it when a real musician tells me, “That thing has a sweet sound.”

And then I read the Gospels. Hey, so do you.

When Jesus talks about selling all that I have and giving to the poor and following him, I get a little scared. What does he mean? How do you hear this if you believe in the prosperity gospel? I try not to be greedy – that’s one of my other pet peeves, greed – but how does God see my tendency to hold on to what I have?

When Jesus talks about the end of time, the time of reckoning, and says that I didn’t feed him or clothe him or visit him, I’m shaken to my core. I think I try to do some good things, but then, so did all the other “goats.” It worries me. About me. About you.

When Jesus suggests that even loving my family and friends above following him, I suggest to him that he has gone from preaching to meddling.

There is a lot that is scary in this Gospel, this so-called good news, of Jesus of Nazareth. I’m not sure I can just shrug it off. Sitting comfortably in a pew and thinking the “great thoughts” sure seems like a good religion to me, but when I am challenged to get up, to go out and love the ones God loves, I find it a bit terrifying.

I know about forgiveness, but is there forgiveness for hatefulness? Is there forgiveness for prejudice? Is there forgiveness for greed? Is there forgiveness for the whole list of things we do that are against life, against people, against the marginalized?

Yeah, I think we need to have some fear.

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About jamiebrame

Greetings, fellow earthlings. I'm the retired Program Director at Christmount, the national retreat, camp, and conference center of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), in Black Mountain, NC. From September 2019 through October, 2020, I served Timberlake Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lynchburg, VA, as interim minister. After taking more than a year off, First Christian Church (DoC), Wilson, NC, offered me the position of Interim Minister, beginning May 10, 2022. Originally from Eden, NC, I graduated from John Motley Morehead High School, earned a BA in Religion and Philosophy at Atlantic Christian College (now Barton College), and eked out a Master of Divinity from the Divinity School at Duke University. I served, in various positions, churches (part time and full time) in North Carolina and Georgia, and have lived in Black Mountain, NC, since 1989. I married Renae in 1992 (she refers to these years as "looooooooooong" years. I've spent the past 50 years or so trying to practice Christian contemplative prayer with some touches of Zen meditation to help the journey along. Married to a wife who is much holier than I am, I am fortunate to learn from her daily about how to do this thing called spirituality. Being an ordained minister doesn't make me holy (but occasionally, as you'll read, a little sanctimonious, so forgive me in advance!); but I hope that I put my education to good use. I'd love to be considered a spiritual teacher, but I know myself too well to claim that. While I do a bit of teaching, I think the best teaching we do is when we remain silent (the old desert abba said something like, "if you won't learn from my silence, you won't learn from my talking"). But silence shouldn't turn into quietism, and we do have to speak out and act for justice and fairness and equality for all. I frequently ask myself the question, "Does it matter?" about the major - and minor - issues of the day. What I think matters: love for God, equality, fairness, loving our neighbor, feeding hungry people, housing homeless ones, clothing naked ones, and especially caring for children; basically, caring for those who have some trouble caring for themselves. AND our relationship with God. What doesn't matter: what you think of me. I'm not very Christ-like. You won't hear me talking about all the things I do for others, or all the things I do for God - I was taught that It's not about me, and using good works to get attention for myself isn't what Christian faith is about - look up "narcissism" on Google. I'm not sure Jesus thinks it matters much that I am like him or not, but I do. The old story from the rabbis is probably apropo: when I am hauled up before God at the end of time, God isn't going to ask me why I wasn't more like someone else: I will be asked why I wasn't more like me. The rabbis tell the story better. I'm still a work in progress, as Renae will attest to. Finally, I just hope that something you read here will make you think. Use what you can, ignore the rest. Go read some of the desert saints. Read the classics. Take care of people, never point to yourself, and don't follow me: I'm just hoping to be one more signpost to God. And as one friend reminded me the week before I left Christmount, "It matters." Oh, and my favorite color is probably blue, and I love cats, and I love my wife's music. I don't like beets.
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