My Body is a Cage

Culture seems to have a strange conception of the Christian afterlife. You only need to look at films, cartoons, TV programs and books to see that there is a concept of 'going to heaven'- of escaping to an ethereal soul float; a disembodied, spiritual, vague and unscientific existence. I think of His Dark Materials, the Phillip Pullman novels in which millions of souls are released from a torturous existence, to be released into the nirvana of nature. I think of the Simpsons with its comic depictions of God and his long white beard, sitting on a big fluffy cloud, of souls floating out of bodies. You don't need to look far to find a picture of 'heaven'. Ask any person on the street, in gregs, in HMV, in Starbucks- they will tell you about souls and clouds and maybe harps. 

Somehow this notion of 'heaven' has slipped into Christian culture. People seem to be under the impression that the Christian belief is that I will die, my soul will float out and I will live with God in a spiritual heaven. And for years that's what I believed. And it irritated me. Even worse, I didn't really believe it. It sounds like a fairy tale, like a pre-enlightened fantasy. Christian culture seems to be at times vague, and times bordering on confused on what 'heaven' consists of at all.   

But it's pretty clear from what it says in the Bible that the Christian hope is one of resurrection. I was reading only this morning from Job: 

"After my skin has been destroyed,
yet in my flesh I will see God;
I myself will see him
with my own eyes—I, and not another.
How my heart yearns within me!" 

In my flesh I will see God. I really don't know in what other sense I could see God. I don't really know in what other sense I could be anything at all. And it's littered all over the Bible. You only need to read 1 Corinthians 15, Paul goes on a similar rant about resurrection and how important it is. I know it sounds strange, but I get really riled up about this. It influences how we live out faith; it's important that we think through what it is we have hope in.

 But people don't really get it sometimes. On one side there are the people who think 'surely all Christians believe in the resurrection of the body'- it's obvious. The other side don't really know; and even more dangerously, they don't think it matters very much. Only last week I met up with a friend who would call himself a Christian. He didn't really understand what happens when we die. He wasn't really sure what he believed. But he'd never really heard about physical resurrection. I have spoken to friends of mine who have been Christians for 10 years who don't really know what they think. And it makes me so angry, because it's so vital, so central to what Christianity is about. Even in the most basic doctrine of beliefs we have, the apostles creed claims: 

"I believe in the resurrection of the body"

 I think it's pretty important we know what the hope is that we claim. It impacts how we share faith, it impacts how we live it out, and it matters deeply. I resent the fact that we have embraced a culture of 'death' being a going into the next room, a natural part of life, just a little harmless stage in human existence. No! Christianity believes that death is conquered. But it is conquered because it needs conquering. Death is painful. I think about the loss of my Grandmother on my family and what pain that causes us, what a gap that leaves. Death is awful, it is horrendous, it is totally opposed to life and to hope.

Resurrection is a pretty clear word- it is about rising from the dead. It is about conquering death. Rising from the dead reverses an act of utter evil. If death is only an escaping of this world, of this body, then it is not all that bad and it totally nullifies the cross.

 For me, this realization was enormously significant. As far as I could gather, my identity was so intricately tied into my physicality; my personality was as much about how I looked as how I acted. And what I thought were the beliefs of Christianity seemed so opposed to that. The truth is that we are very physical beings- the Bible is very clear about that. We are dust beings not floaty floaty spirits. We need to cling onto this more than ever in an age of ever increasing scepticism towards Christianity. It might be that the concept of resurrection is just as laughable. But personally, I found the truth of resurrection transformed my faith, my view of hope, my view of death. We need clarity in how we speak, how we communicate, how we preach and in our own minds.

"But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised."

Crooked Legs

You might be wondering what happened as the result of my last blog. We had a conversation. We turned up at the attic cafe, drank some absolutely beautiful coffee, a bit of pork pie- and five people sat round and talked about the Church. What they wanted it to be, how they were frustrated, what they thought was great. It didn't really have a structure, it wasn't really much of an event, and compared to other things I've organised you might say it was pretty poorly attended. But I came away feeling strangely uplifted, encouraged. I believed that actually it made a difference. 

I've just finished reading a book by Seth Godin, a marketing guru from the States, called 'Tribes'. It's all about the future of culture, of business, of organisations. He argues that due to various factors; including social media, the internet etc.. we are entering into an age of 'tribe'. An age of small groups of people passionately following a cause, a leader, an idea- because they want to, because they believe in it. They didn't start because anyone gave them permission or asked them to be there; but because someone invited them. Someone did something. 

That's how I see the future of the Church. A movement; a group of people who exist because they want to not because they ought to. A group of people who follow, discuss, explore, challenge. There's never an end of 'Church'; people don't leave when it's finished- but when they want to. It isn't contained into 4 meetings a week,10 meetings a week- in fact, it's not really about meetings at all. It leaks into every aspect of the lives of those involved. It isn't contained into a building or a group or a room.  People are honest about who they are and where they're at. It does not exclude or alienate. People are not afraid to doubt and question.

 I see the Church as a constant, flowing, moving community of people who love each other- who meet each others needs and those around them. Ultimately Church is a people who choose to discover what the Jesus who existed 2000 years ago has to offer now; how what he said, who he was, what he stood for, impacts today. It shouldn't be afraid of being wrong, of being different, of being something that looks weird. It exists for its purpose and for its people and not for tradition or preconceptions. It might look different from one month to another. It is impossible to define and describe. That's what I long for, that's what I strive for. That's why I get out of bed in the morning.  

I believe that faith makes a difference. I believe that Church is a tribe that we need as we move forward as a society. That's my aim. I'm constantly looking for my next step. I feel like I'm getting somewhere slowly. I reckon you should come with me. I'm going as far as these crooked legs take me. 

Optimistic

I've been so encouraged recently by the feedback I've received from some of my blogs. I've been able to challenge, encourage, irritate and sympathise with people who I've never met, people I've lost touch with and people who I would struggle to strike up conversation with.

It got me thinking- why do I blog? Why do I ramble on about my thoughts ever week? Why do I spam your Facebook and twitter by inflicting my opinions on you? Why do I bang the sale drum month after month about faith and the church? Why I haven't I given up yet?

The reason, I think, is because I'm an optimist. Because I love the church, but I believe the church could be better. Because I think faith is life changing and world changing but I'm frustrated with how it's often lived in my own life and those around me. I write because I believe I can change something. Because I believe that I have to start somewhere.

But if I'm honest- sometimes I'm sick of blogging. I'm sick of writing but not doing. I'm sick of the reality of being an Optimist. But I'm not sure I know what the next step might be.

I want to have a conversation. A real one. A conversation about the stuff I write about. About the stuff you think about but don't know where to talk about it. Changing culture is not something that happens overnight.

If you're in York, this Saturday (21st jan) I'm going to be at the attic coffee bar on kings square about 7pm. I'd love to have a conversation. I don't know if you've ever read my blog before, if you disagree with me, or whether you're my biggest fan- but I'm just interested to see what happens. See you there.

Why I am not a cynic

I sometimes wonder if people think I'm a cynic. At times I struggle to engage with Church like others do. I find singing sometimes awkward and frustrating. I find the certainty and glossiness of Church annoying and false. I find the lack of honesty and doubt troubling. I see the deep need to challenge people. But I'm not a cynic.

There is a risk of labeling anyone who questions or comments on 'Church' with this title. The fear, I think, is that people like this (people like me) are in danger of filling the Church with negativity, with breeding an unhelpful culture. After all- questioning leads to doubt. Guess we better not question then.

The thing is, I can identify more with the outsider than the insider. Even though I have done it all my life; I think that Church is a pretty strange thing, and at times I don't get it. Sometimes I don't really sing very enthusiastically, sometimes I look distracted in the talks, sometimes I leave without complimenting the preacher on his message. Sometimes I don't really enjoy myself.

I overheard a conversation the other day between two of my friends. A comment from a non-Church going guy was that he found that Church lacked doubt- that it was a place of people coming together and declaring and worshiping with utter conviction. But for someone exploring with uncertainty and doubt, it might seem difficult to ever 'become' like them, to join in fully. And, at times I find this too. I find it difficult to join in. I find it difficult to declare with as much certainty as others seem to have. I find myself asking questions, thinking, and not always agreeing with everything I hear.

But this doesn't mean that I don't want to see people discovering Christ. It doesn't mean that I don't long to see the Church renewed. It doesn't mean that I don't think faith in Jesus is infinitely valuable. Just because I don't like your method, doesn't mean I'm not after the same thing that you are. It might mean that people like this, people that question, slow the process down, it might mean that Church is not always as encouraging. It even might mean that you don't enjoy it quite as much. But if we don't give space to the thinkers, to the doubters, to the questioners then we are in danger of producing a Church which is more about making people that all think the same rather than people that follow Christ. The question is, which of these two things is truly more important?

If the Church is a body composed of different parts we need people like this in our Church. We cannot run the risk of breeding a Church of like minded people. There has to be room to question, to doubt, to challenge. There has to be scope to allow people like this to shape the future of the Church without being squashed and ignored or cast aside as 'cynics'. And equally it is unhelpful to just become a Church of 'cynics'; to ignore the mainstream, to cut ourselves off from the enthusiastic. We need to learn the value of these words:

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” ...God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.