Continuing with the final post of my series "Not that kind of Christian." If you missed part 1 or part 2 start by reading them first. Today's focus is on scripture, so here goes:

I'm not that kind of Christian who believes the Bible is inerrant.

I am not that kind of Christian that has always loved the Bible in the same way.

I am not that kind of Christian who has always read the Bible devotionally. Sometimes in my faith journey I've not read the Bible regularly at all.

But this was not always the case. When I was a child, I was told that the Bible was God’s word, no errors. Moses, you know, wrote the first five books and Jesus said word for word everything we find in the red letters.I was taught to read scripture regularly because this helped me to live a life pleasing to God. In fact at my church, an extracurricular activity for us church kids in elementary school was Bible drill.

When you are taught the Bible this way and encouraged to think of the Bible this way– as something to be conquered as something to be read in chunks, you can easily begin to take scripture out of context.

For example, verses like I Timothy 4:11: “A woman should learn in quietness and full submission” can be used destructively, destroying the self-confidence of an entire gender of the human race. (But that is a whole other post!)

What happens when we teach our children the Bible like this is that “Scripture can easily become loaded time bombs ready to explode" as I once heard Pastor Brian McLaren say.

Or we grow up disillusioned.

This is what I need to tell you: there came a point in my life when I stopped reading the Bible for devotional reasons.

It was the second month after I was ordained as a pastor. What should have been the most joyous juncture of my life was one of the lowest. I wondered what in the world I’d gotten myself into, being a “professional Christian” who now was not allowed to question her faith?

It was just so hard for me to reconcile what I was taught in small chunks of Bible drill with the God I wanted to love, the God I thought I knew, and the faith that I knew had the power to do something for good in the world.  I was upset that the church wanted to condemn all of my friends of other faiths without even the chance to know their hearts.

I could have very easily lost my faith in the years that followed. I could have easily lost my job if my supervisors knew what was going on in my heart. It ate me up inside not to be a space where I could be honest. But, I knew I needed rest and perspective. And, in time, I found myself into the loving arms of Washington Plaza Baptist Church where I was pastor for 4 years and preached every Sunday.

In preaching every week, I began to read scripture again, but never like I did in elementary school or even college when I used to spend hours doing Beth Moore expository studies on the back porch of my dorm room at Christian college.

In my new relationship with scripture I read to see God’s story– to see how God has faithfully guided humanity into relationship with the divine.

I read to know who God is– to gain a countercultural view of the world where the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

I read to be reminded of God’s inclusive love for all people– to see how even in the passages I want to throw out for their harshness of cruelty, there’s a message of hope, justice and concern for all.

I am the kind of Christian who believes in the ebbs and flows of our relationship with sacred texts.

I am the kind of Christian who won't make you feel bad for what you believe or if you've had your "quiet time" today.

I am the kind of Christian who is still seeking and reading the Bible just in different ways.

What about you? 

Continuing with my series of questions about the life of faith. Up today: why do you read the Bible?

When I was a child, I was told that the Bible was God's word, no errors in it at all. Moses, you know, wrote the first five books and Jesus said word for word everything we find in the red letters.

I was taught to read scripture regularly because this helped me to live a life pleasing to God. I was told to have a daily scripture readings in my routines, to memorize scripture, and to use scripture to help me figure out what it was that I was to do in my life, finding a life verse to guide all my days.

I was encouraged not to stray from the morals of the good book (no drinking, fornication, or wearing two piece bathing suits were among the favorites of my youth pastor)-- for if I did, then bad things might happen to me  the pastors said. And who wants that, right? I needed to follow orders!

In fact at my church, an extracurricular activity for us church kids in elementary school was Bible drill. "Study to show thyself approved unto God" we were told over and over again. The implied message was God would like us more if we knew this Word.

On Sunday afternoons before choir practice, we'd memorize the books of the Bible-- learn to say the book before, the book after (for example, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus). We'd memorize scripture passages-- 25 a year. And, after a school year of prep, we'd go to competitions-- local and statewide. In 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th grade in fact, I was a state champ in Bible drill in the state of Tennessee. Bible drill seemed to take well to me and I to it. I knew scripture well, at least the lections I was taught, verse by verse at a time.

When you are taught the Bible this way and encouraged to think of the Bible this way-- as something to be conquered as something to be read in chunks, you can easily begin to take scripture out of context. For example, verses like I Timothy 4:11: "A woman should learn in quietness and full submission" can be used destructively, destroying the self-confidence of an entire gender of the human race. As as I heard Brian McLaren say at a conference this year on children, youth, and a new kind of christianity: "Scripture can easily become loaded time bombs ready to explode."  Yet, when your faith begins to beckon you to ask the bigger picture questions where there are no easy answers, confusion, disillusionment, and apathy can easily set it.

I've been reading this week, Rachel Held Evans' book Evolving in Monkey Town and she speaks of her personal journey of just this. (A great read, I might say. Check it out). After growing up in a conservative home in the South, Evans finds herself  as a young adult wanting to love scripture, knowing it well, but being repulsed by it and the community she reads it with  for they have great distaste for her questions. My story is similar.

There came a point in my life when I stopped reading the Bible for devotional reasons. It was the second month after I was ordained as a pastor. What should have been the most joyous junture of my life was one of the lowest. I wondered what in the world I'd gotten myself into, being a "professional Christian" who now was not allowed to question her faith?

Regardless of any fears, cold turkey one morning I gave up devotions. My morning routine changed for years from what it had once been. Again, not something that you expect a preacher to admit but it's the truth. It was just so hard for me to reconcile the faith I was taught in small chunks of Bible drill with the God I wanted to love, the God I thought I knew, and the faith that I knew had the power to do something for good in the world.  I was upset that the church wanted to condemn all of my friends of other faiths without even the chance to know their hearts.

I could have very easily lost my faith. I could have easily lost my job if my supervisors knew it. It ate me up inside not to be a space where I could be honest. But, I knew I needed rest. I needed to find another way. And, soon I found myself into the loving arms of Washington Plaza Baptist Church.

Preaching every week has saved me.  By making it a point to preach in context with an eye for the "non-tradition" interpretation, with eyes open to apply to my own life-- step by step I've come back. For in having to wrestle with scripture every week no matter how I felt or didn't feel, God has spoken to me, guide me to center again. Preaching has helped me engage with texts that have just been what I needed to see God's presence in some difficult situations of my own life.

And though there are those colleagues of mine and naysayers who want to say, "Shame on you. How can you be a preacher if you only read your Bible in preparation for your sermon?"I say thank God I had at least sermons to preach regularly for the last several years! And, at least I'm being honest.

I'm now beginning to read scripture again, but never like I did in elementary school or even college when I used to spend hours doing Beth Moore expository studies on the back porch of my dorm room.

I read scripture to see God's story-- to see how God has faithfully guided humanity into relationship with the divine. I read scripture to know who God is-- to gain a countercultural view of the world where the first shall be last and the last shall be first. I read scripture to be reminded of God's inclusive love for all people-- to see how even in the passages I want to throw out for their harshness of cruelty, there's a message of hope, justice and concern for all. I read scripture to remember who I am and who I'm not-- I am a beloved child of the great mystery of the divine.

I'm glad for how the gift of weekly preaching has saved my faith over these past four years. I'm thankful for a congregation who has entrusted in me this privilege, having no idea what kind of gift they were giving me to grow alongside them. I'm glad that the memory verses I learned as a child were not wasted on state trophies long past, but have come to be a part of the larger picture of faith I keep finding a way to make my own.

For I believe, all of us are on a journey with scripture-- a journey that is unique as the fingerprints on our hands-- and who are we to judge the quality of one another's faith by the sheer number of times we pick up the book? Who are we to ever say 100% that we know what a passage means? Who are we to say that the revelation of God through scripture will not continue to find us, no matter what we do? Even preachers need to hear the good word too. Church everywhere: give us grace to grow-up too.

Yesterday I preached on I Samuel 15:34-16:13, and though I thought I would be writing a sermon about God's unlikely choices this ended up being a sermon about grief. Surprised me for sure! I just couldn't seem to get the "How long will you grief for Saul?" verse out of my mind as I prepared. So, I just went with it and here's a portion of it:

When is the last time you truly grieved over something? I mean a good long cry, a into the night cry, into the next day cry that you thought that you never would get over?

 I remember the spring when my grandmother died. Gran, who had played a central role in my upbringing and joy in my childhood, died as when I was in my second semester of seminary. Gran was more than just a grandmother via biological connections, she was a friend, a confidant, someone in whom I talked my problems over with regularly. She made me feel special always in a way that others did not. When she died, the loss stung deep. It ached. It made me feel like there was no reason in the morning to get out of bed-- though trust me, there was plenty of papers calling my name to write! But, I couldn't seem to get over it as much as I tried.

 Anne Lamott in her book Operating Instructions writes about the first year of her son's life the experience of getting used to motherhood but at the same time grieving the death of one of her closest friends saying, "And I felt like my heart had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken that there could be no real joy again, that at best there might eventually be a little contentment. Everyone wanted me to get help and rejoin life, pick up the pieces and move on, and I tried to, I wanted to, but I just had to lie in the mud with my arms wrapped around myself, eyes closed, grieving, until I didn’t have to anymore.”

Sometimes as much as we want to get over the loss of someone or something, we simply can't. Our grief grips us and becoming the central story of our lives to the pint in which we simply can't even comprehend seeing past our own circumstances.

 Grief, as many of you know, especially those of you who have studied it in workshops and other seminars, is not always about loss via death. Grief over the loss of careers, aspirations or relationship which used to be close but are no longer can paralyze us as deeply as any physical death can. To wake up one morning and find that what you thought was your life work is destroyed by the rejection of others, to come to terms with your best friend no longer is speaking to you, or be let in on a truth about our family after years of secrecy, we can feel smacked in the face. Grief seeks to holding us down for as long as possible. Grief, if we don't find a way to move through it can destroy our lives.

 In our Old Testament lesson for this morning, we meet the prophet Samuel again.

 Called out as the great prophet of Israel, called out as young boy to be the saving grace leader of a nation in deep decline, called out as the one who would be God's spokesperson to a people desperate to hear a good word-- Samuel  was on top of the world. Things were going great! Samuel was the hope of the nation, after all.  Yet, in this state of extreme responsibility, I can imagine that Samuel  felt  he needed to make just the right choices at just the right time so to ensure that the nation of Israel had a future. And for a while, it seemed Samuel tasted the sweet fruit of his good, seemingly God led choices.

 So, what happens when all goes badly? What happens when the king HE anoints behaves badly and needs to be removed from office?

 And it is at this juncture, we find him in a place of deep grief.  All is not well in his world.  Samuel blames himself. He pouts. He cries. And, see Saul's failures as a reflection of himself.  How can he ever again show his face in public after Saul has flopped big time? Grief was his primary story.

 And God has a word with him about it saying in 16:1: "How long will you grief over Saul?"

 Or, "How long, Samuel will grief be your story?"

 It is not that grieving is wrong or an inappropriate emotion, but that for every period of grief, (especially the more pity party kinds)-- there comes a time when it must end. For as spiritually cleansing and healthy as grief is, it's an emotion has a time and season. For, if one stays in a grieving process too long, past its time-- it can actually be destructive. For Samuel, God says, it is time to move on.

Grief over what could, should, would have been and all the feelings of personal failure internalized held Samuel captive, we learn. In particular for Samuel, his grief held him captive to only what he could see, hear, and feel in the present moment. Grief stole his vision for life and the people he was entrusted to lead.

Thus, the Lord is saying to him, "You are not perfect. All is not perfect in this land.  I know this. But one thing still holds true: I still love these people. I still love you. And, there is work to be done in the future!" And this is the post-grief task one that our text narrates for us, God says: "I have rejected [Saul] from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons."

Though Saul has been a disappointment of a king and leader and Samuel wants to keep believing that it was all his fault, such feelings just aren't helpful. In fact, God is asking him to dust his sandals off from the dirt in which he's sat and go be a part of the next great thing that God was going to do in the nation: anoint the next king.

And, it's important to note here that it would have been easy for Samuel, as he went to find the next leader, to fall into the trap that is naturally a part of being in an aggrieved state: the syndrome of "must do anything to fix the pain right now."

 You've met these people if you aren't one right now: the "hurry up and get this over with" folks. Pain and its effects are despised so much that  these people will do anything not to feel the pain of disappointment, rejection or loss.  Things like:  drinking too much wine  when they get home from work, staying at the gym too long and skipping meals, or even drowning each night away in mindless tv-- just avoiding the grief through a distraction.

 Or, the approach of getting to work too rapidly, taking the lead alone to solve the grief right away. Type A things like signing up for every single class or seminar known to man about a particular issue-- trying to become the expert of one's own problems. Things like making lists after lists after lists of what can be done-- trying to logically organize their way through your problems. Or even, the simple act of refusing to rest through grief-- doing, doing and more doing.

 In all of this, I believe that God knew that Samuel could be in this exact place as well-- trying to avoid or solve the problem too quickly. Samuel is given exactly, then what grief needs to keep moving-- clarity. Samuel is told exactly what to do, exactly what to say, and exactly who to listen to when he arrives at the hometown of Jesse.  The end of verse three gives us what is most important as a word from the LORD: "You shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you."

 Specifically Samuel was told in verse 7 not to make a quick judgment just to get the process of selecting the next leader done as quickly as possible. Saying, to Samuel, "Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance but the LORD looks on the heart." 

God saying, "Don't just go Samuel to who you think meets the criteria that others will approve of. Instead, listen to me. I can show you who has the heart for the work of king. Don't make this process about you. Listen."

Or simply stated, Samuel could have rushed through the line of brothers among Jesse's sons-- very easily he could have solved his failure complex quickly-- but if he did, then, he'd be missing out on an opportunity to hear God's leading.

And, thus, this is the surprise-- in Samuel's grief, in his pain, God was about to do a new thing, a new thing in the life of Israel where healing would come from the unlikely choice of youngest son David as the next king as Samuel kept listening. This was all he was asked to do.

I can remember some of the most powerful words said over me (that I obviously still remember to this day) at my ordination service. During the laying on of hands a deacon of the ordaining church came up to me and said, "Listen to God. You've gotten to this point in your life through listening and you will do great things if you keep listening."

Isn't God funny like this sometimes? We make it so difficult when all we are asked to do is to put one foot in front of the other and listen as we go.  Of course this doesn't take away the pain or the loss, but we do have direction for what is next. And this can be grief's greatest surprise . . .

How else have you been surprised by grief in your life? I'd love to know!