Here-a-tic, there-a-tic, everywhere a heretic!

What would you think if you weren't taught what to think?

I hate that question. A friend of mine threw this little book of questions in my lap one day, and flipped me to that unnerving question. I nodded my approval, than wondered, Was he pointing that attack at me? Perhaps I hate the question because I'm in the business of teaching people what to think. Or, perhaps -and more likely - I hate the question because no one has yet taught me how to answer it.
I speak english because I was born in America. I wear blue jeans because that's part of my culture. I fear immigrants, homosexuals, and evolutionists because that's what those around me did. And let's own up to some pretty basic truths: I'm a Christian today primarily because my folks are too. And not just Christian, but Mennonite, which narrows the playing field quite a bit all on its own. And as I'm learning in the land of Oz, Mennonites are different here than the conservative Ohio bunch I hung up with growing up. All this to say, have I ever had an original thought in my entire life? Probably not, but I'm not sure it really matters.
But it does matter to me that I don't just slurp up the party line and allow myself to get washed away in the sea of apathy currently known as Western Christianty. I want to actually be a follower of Jesus. Maybe its time I stop being a Christian, suck it up, and start following the only person I have pledged my everything to. No, I'm not talking about Hannah either. Though wedding vows are about as cool as it gets. Of course I mean Jesus. That guy that's been so domesticated by "testamints" and WWJD bracelets its laughable for me as a pastor to even say his name.

So what's a heretic anyway?

But Jesus was crazy! I mean, that guy wasn't the cute fluffy white guy with a bathrobe that we all grew up watching dance around the flannel graph. No, he was accused of all kinds of stuff. He broke the law, he laughed in his pastors face, he drank so much wine they called him a lush. But his main act was the way he treated people. Geeks, outcasts, loners, winners, leaders, prostitutes, left-behinds were all totally able to connect with this guy. And they hated him for it! They hated the way he connected with everyone, and didn't allow some to have more than others. He was a heretic.
What's a heretic you ask?
Someone who comes along with a new set of eyes and sees things differently. Someone who's able to see through all the bs in our lives and churches. He was the kind of guy who made it rain frogs, and people would come running to him. A heretic is someone who comes along and flips our world upside down, so we can finally see God. Jesus helps me to see God in our completely screwed up world. But here's the catch. If people would have really embraced Jesus, he wouldn't be a heretic, he would have been a hero. But they killed him. They couldn't see. They couldn't accept that the New Thing he was about was a good thing. They thought he was crazy, and worse- demon possessed. Thing is, they were crazy! or worse. And if Jesus was a heretic, I'm left wondering if I should be too. Especially when some other guys who had unlimited faith were seen to be heretics too, maybe that's not so bad. Martin Luther King Jr. was considered to be a heretic, and so they shot him. Michael Sattler and the Anabaptists were called heretics, before they were burned at the stake. The Original 12 were all crazy heretics from their religions perspective, and so many of them died violently.
But most of us just go to church: stand, sit, sing, when we are told. Nothing radical about that! Is it Christian? Sure. But that's not what it means to follow Jesus.

What would we all be doing right now if we didn't have 200 years of Western Christianity to tell us what to do? I have no idea, but perhaps somewhere in there we'd be following Jesus. That's my hope. That's my life goal. Not a weekend home, or an SUV, not my name in lights or an early retirement. I want Jesus, plan, simple, and in his completeness. And that folks, is a revolution! It's dangerous, and it means I'm going to get my ass kicked (mostly by God). But my passion is with Christ, and not upholding the status quo anymore. I want more humor in my life, and more joy. And the only way that's going to happen is by joining the ranks of the heretics. I've tried it the other way, and it just doesn't work. It sounds ridiculous to me too, but right now, for whatever reason, that feels good.

Welcome to 20First Century Heretic!

Do I need a home?

Still not at home.
It's already been a year since I started hanging out in Hesston. We're still not entirely sure we're Hesstonians yet, and never dreamed it would take this long to feel "at home." It's quite certain that others seem it a necessity that at some point my transition end, and my "at-home"ness commence. This is clear by the endless barrage of questions parishioners throw my way. What's not as clear is why it's so important that I find home. Perhaps the questions are posed out of genuine concern. Or, perhaps much more is resting on my feeling like I've found a place to relax and let my guard down. Perhaps what is really sought is someone who can verify lifestyles, and cultural choices. After all, what better way to say 'yes' than to adopt that lifestyle. And how could one ever feel at home while being a fish out of water.

Jesus on the prowl,... again.
But what the heck does it mean to feel "at home," anyway? Aren't we supposed to feel a bit out of place as Christians, wherever we are? Isn't that, after all, the point, or at least part of the point? As hard as I've tried to find - and believe me, I've been to hell and back looking - a way to tame Jesus, to take the edge off, I'm simply exhausted by the effort. Jesus never felt at home in his ministry. And no, I don't just mean that Jesus was homeless. Though he was. Sure, there's that troubling line that says, "Foxes have dens, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." That in and of itself makes me squirm when I use my remote controlled garage door opener to open my two-car garage (filled with two silver cars, and two green bikes), and than wander around my too too-big 4-bedroom 2 1/2 bath house. Unfortunately for me, that's not all there is to it.

No, if Jesus was just homeless, I could disregard that as not practical, or even safe. But there's this deep sense that Jesus was somehow "other" than the world around him. He said "my kingdom is not of this world," and backed it up by living the craziest life I've ever seen! He was salt in a stale world, light to the cultures darkness, a fish gasping for breath in a sin-starved world. Or rather the only one able to breath in our God-breathed world! Either way, he was "in, but not of, the world." Is it possible to interpret the temptation to come "home" as anything other than an invitation to be both in and of the world? Oh, I wish that were true. But the conviction still rises.
Jesus was a resident alien here on this blue planet of ours, a citizen first and foremost of the revolution of God before he was a patriot of any earthly allegiance. And he never asks us to do anything but be like him! Jesus never yet has asked me to settle, or go home. No way, he bids me every day I pay attention to "come, follow me." It's only the days I work really hard to block his voice that I can even begin to relax and feel at "home." I'm better at that than I care to admit!

Called to be different
But here I am, living in Hesston, and loving it. Loving it not because I am "at one" with all things that are here but rather because God has called me to a life of ministry here at this time. Shouldn't our confidence, peace of mind, and comfort be based in our connection to Christ, and not in our lifestyle? That, I'm certain, is the point of it all.

This disciple thing is a dangerous business, shatters the status quo and disrupts the flow of blood to my head. But I welcome the beatings! And I welcome my ridiculous God into my life. I hope that one day I get it. Maybe then I'll be called to my true home. May God continue to pester me into faithfulness.