Taking Off and Landing

In an age where denominational affiliation is fading, I think it’s ever important to know where we’re starting from. In the words of Flannery O’Connor, “You gotta be frum somewhere.” My heritage runs the roads through Methodism and the charismatic movements through baptist veins these days, and I give my apology for it all here, courtesy of Adam Cleaveland at Pomomusings. So, without further ado, Adam, on why Presbyterianism:
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Over one year ago, I filled out my application to be an Inquirer with the Presbyterian Church (USA). What this means is that I am “inquiring” about the possibility of becoming a Minister of the Word and Sacrament in the PC(USA). You don’t have to sign any doctrinal statements, answer any theological questions – you’re just inquiring. They do ask for a brief statement of faith and then some questions about your devotional life, role models in ministry, etc. I had no problem filling out this application…except for one question: “What does it mean to you to be Presbyterian?” Below is the answer I wrote:

To be Presbyterian means that I join a long line of faithful, committed believers who belong to one tradition within the Tribe of Christianity. Because of my experience of God, Christ and the Holy Spirit, the Reformed Tradition is the branch of Christianity with which I choose to align myself. This is not to say that Wesleyan/Holiness, Pentecostal, Catholic or Orthodox traditions are wrong; they are just other expressions of the same faith that resonate more with other followers of Christ.

Though the incessant amount of committees within the polity of the PC(USA) provides adequate opportunities for “Presbyterian/committee” jokes, there is a benefit to the representative form of government. Power is not held within the grasp of only one person, but with a group of Christ-followers who attempt to discern God’s will and lead faithfully.

Now, if I was on a Committee on Preparation for Ministry, and I read that, I would not be satisfied. Nor would I necessarily be fully satisfied when I gave the answer that I gave to my church’s Session when asked, “Why are you seeking ordination in the PC(USA) right now?” I basically responded with, “Well, I grew up in a Presbyterian church, went to a Presbyterian college, worked at Presbyterian church camps and now I am working at a Presbyterian church. I’ve tried other denominations, and the PC(USA) is just sort of where I’ve landed and felt comfortable.” When I told my answer to the Orthodox priest friend of mine, he responded with “Well, that’s great. That tells me why you ended up PC(USA). But it tells me absolutely NOTHING about what is going to keep you Presbyterian.”

So then, the question remains: why Presbyterian?

And the answer?

Yah, I guess that’s where I am still trying to figure things out. When I have to stop and think about it and actually come up with some ideas for why I’m here and why I might be staying, here is what I come up with:

I am here. Whether it’s a good reason or not, the fact of the matter is, I have just sort of “ended up” being Presbyterian. My mother grew up a Mennonite and my sister and I definitely have strong Mennonite leanings (focus on Jesus, anti-war, pacifist, social action, etc), but through a series of events, choices and encounters with people, I’ve become a member of the Presbyterian Church (USA). I have experienced other denominations (Nazarene, Assemblies of God, Foursquare, Non-Denominational and a few others) over the course of my brief 25 years, and I have felt the most comfortable in the variety of PC(USA) expressions I have run across. So, whether or not that is a good reason for the ordination process or any committees, it is a valid reason for why I have found myself in the place I am.

Theologically
Who knows? I know that while there are some beautiful little nuggets in Calvin’s Institutes, on the whole, Calvin is not my man – which makes it interesting to be pursuing ordination in the Reformed tradition. That’s something I’m sure I’ll have to work out (at least before I go before the floor of my Presbytery to answer theological questions). What does it mean to be part of the Reformed tradition? Well, I suppose I like to focus on the second part of that statement…Reformed, and…

Semper reformanda…

…always reforming. There is a theological connection with the ancient, with the past, with the Reformers and the great spirit of Calvin, Luther, Zwingli (and I’d definitely add the Anabaptists). But we cannot simply sit around and be content with the theology of the 1500s. It is the 21st century, and it seems to be fairly theologically “silly” to not want to engage in the creative process of creating theology for our context. I believe this is where the “always reforming” part comes in – we need to be open to where the Spirit leads us – and be content and even excited if the Spirit leads us into areas we’d never expect…

Diversity

I mentioned this to my Session, sort of as a joke, but no one laughed. Why Presbyterian? “Because you can believe pretty much whatever you want and still be Presbyterian…” Not the right answer for the Session, but I think there is some truth in that statement. People in my generation do not want to be nailed down to a set of beliefs, a stringent set of assertions that one must sign off on for the rest of eternity. To be a member of a tradition and a denomination in which exists an incredible amount of diversity is very freeing. I think the diversity within the PC(USA) allows for a greater ecumenism, greater infighting and theological arguments (oh wait, that’s not a good thing) and for a greater freedom for theological exploration and progression.

Pension Plan
Okay, so this is not really a reason, but we do have a really damn good pension plan.

I am glad for the Inquirer stage…the point is to inquire into whether the PC(USA) is a good fit for you – and that is my hope over the course of the next few years.

Why Presbyterian?

Hell if I know – but it’s working for me for the time being.

It occurs to me that the bright word of the Gospel, though shining out through the cosmos, is at the same time “through the glass darkly” and “the light of the world”. Coming into contact with the Gospel is akin to walking out your front door to go to work and seeing a man sauntering completely naked down the street, after which you’re aware that something has happened, but you’re not entirely sure just what. In other words, you can point to exactly what has thrown your world off kilter, but you’re at a loss to say exactly how the world lost its axis.

One could point to the words of Scriptures about bright lights shining to Gentiles, and of blindness being lifted off of the eyes of those that once thought sight was out of reach, and you’d be accurate: the Gospel throws into sharp relief, like a Flannery O’Connor short story, the ways in which the world we take for granted is largely crazy when confronted by the grotesque sanity of the life of Christ. But when it comes to describing what that life looks like, either in terms of its bearing on what comes next, words ultimately fail us.

Unless, of course, we become more comfortable with words than we do with the mysterious complexity of the Gospel. In that case, action becomes sharp, decisive, functional. Whether such action should be the course of action, on the other hand, is another issue.
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Over breakfast, a friend in town related his feelings over some life changes, and how the relationship with one of his friends had become strained over the call that, I daresay, none can properly judge outside those that have watched the called move towards the Caller. Doctrine once again, in its firm, static forms, raises its head and reaches out to suck dry the fluid dyanamics of human relationships. In other words, “beliefs” have once again superceded the way that two people interact.

I’ll say from the onset that to divide one’s beliefs into a separate category from one’s beliefs in God’s providential working in another human being is fairly absurd. To place hypothetical constructs over the enfleshed, undeniable call of Christ in a person’s life is to deny that discipleship is a long series of rest stops, and not the terminal tavern where Christians hole up to out-wait the world. The long flow of Christian history is one of changing doctrine, ebb and flow over how exactly to make sense of the one who came as God in the flesh. And these tides have broken relationship upon relationship on the rocks of the seas: friends parting ways over whether angels dance on pins or whether they dance at all. To illustrate my point:

Schlieirmacher: Theology is a matter of intuiting what God is doing through the creative work of the Spirit.

Augustine: Theology is a matter of properly explicating the Scriptures in the context of the church.

Barth: Theology is speaking about the uncreated Word of God, Jesus.

Is there a clean well-lit room for all these three to sit with a cold one and smile? That house is prepared, and I am sure that they sit there today, smiling, feasting, and decidedly embarrassed for their errors. Where is that room on this side of a greater feast? Every place that contradictory views meet is that place. Charity is the gift of the Spirit, and waits to be seasted in our meals. As such, when our understanding of the operations of God supercede our interactions and capability of facilitating relationship with those God has created, our doctrine is in need of revisiting.

In the incarnation, the whole of humanity was taken up, for better or for worse, that it might be healed. To divide a person into ideas and flesh is no better than calling Jesus God-with-skin. Jesus was a mysteriously made person, fully God and fully human, inseperable, and yet unconfounded. As such, who Jesus was is inseparable from what he did. Woe be unto us when we assume by our division of a person that we can incarnate proper faith better than Jesus Himself.