Someone Else On Dual Heritage

I feel like I am in a very precarious position, one which I may very well be in for the rest of my life. I was raised in one church, very much formed in that church, and then left it for another of my own free will. What does that make me?


-Heroic, because I followed the call of God and my conscience upon my life, however painful and difficult it has been?

-An ingrate, because I left those to whom I owe so much?

-A traitor, because I soon stand to defend what I once might have denounced?

-Just a human trying my best at life, so leave me alone?


I'm certainly no longer solely a Pentecostal. On the other hand, were I to identify myself to someone as "Catholic," they would certainly and immediately conjure up a series of assumptions and stereotypes relating to my character and spirituality, almost none of which would apply to me. I've settled for the time being on Pentecostal-Catholic, but I don't even like that (If I'm not even sure what that's supposed to mean, how is someone else supposed to get it?). And how does one in this position relate to their former church, or discuss matters concerning it, and their reasons for leaving it? Certainly, I've avoided that altogether, lest I become (or even remotely sound like) certain writers and individuals I once despised, who made my decision not easier, as they thought they set out to do, but vastly more painful and difficult.

Searching through Franciscan University's library today, I came across a book called The Price of Unity, written by Basil W. Maturin. The title caught my eye, especially considering that it was shelved in what appears to be the library's ecumenism/conversion section (or so it seems to me). I'm currently reading G.K. Chesterton on the subject, but perhaps I will try this book as well. At any rate, I certainly appreciated the foreword.

B.W. Maturin, born in 1847, was an Irish-born Anglican priest and writer, who later became a Roman Catholic. He apparently died on board the RMS Lusitania in 1915 (how interesting is that??). He had some fascinating thoughts on this subject, which I took great comfort in.

If a man is vanquished by the dialectical skill of his opponent, or by the stronger array of facts and arguments which he is able to bring forward on his side, he is not generally in a very receptive state of mind, but is probably rather looking about for other arguments and weapons of attack and defence, than laying his mind open to the force of the arguments by which he has been silenced.

And this is especially the case when the writer has once belonged to the party he attacks. It is difficult for anyone, however well intentioned, to avoid a tone that, under the circumstances, sounds offensive, and not to seem to be betraying the confidences of those with whom he has lived on terms of intimacy, and with whom he has often talked over the question. He knows exactly how these difficulties were regarded, how some of them were answered, and others were looked upon as trials that must be borne, and others again as anomalies that were not of their making, but which it was their part and their privilege to help to mend.

And it is almost impossible to avoid, at any rate, the appearance of bad taste in dragging out to the light the weaknesses and inconsistencies of a religious system that for many years claimed one's reverence and respect. The memories of religious experience do not easily pass away, and these memories are sacred, and lend some of their hallowing effect to the circumstances and surroundings in which they were felt. I have never been able to understand the attitude of mind of those who speak with bitterness, still less with ridicule, of that which once had been their religious home.

Thank you, B.W. Maturin. May your words bring comfort to many others who have tread this difficult path.

You died in a fascinating and history-altering event, by the way.

Verses I Wish Weren't There

We could all argue about the Bible until Jesus comes back. Seriously, we could. If a three-year journey toward Catholicism taught me anything, it's that there is no shortage of interpretations, no matter what denomination you're in, no matter who you're talking to.

Think you're interpreting it all right? Well, you're not, I guarantee it, because you have one of three ways you do it:

a) Using a system, method, or set of core values of interpreting the scriptures

b) Interpreting the scriptures however they speak to your spirit, or how seems most logical to you.

c) Ask your church what it says, and go with that.



Concerning a): every system of interpreting the Bible has a core value that it's all about, and unfortunately, they all contradict. Take for instance, the literalist method, in which you take scripture at face value, believing what it says is what it really means. The problem with this system is that people who espouse it never live it out fully. Ask a literalist if they believe Genesis 1-12 is literally true, and they'll tell you yes, without a doubt. Ask them if what Jesus said about eating his flesh and drinking his blood is literally true, and they'll say no way (argh, what are you, a heretic? A Catholic?) And I have yet to meet any Christian who thinks the Antichrist is actually going to have seven heads.

Concerning b): parts of Paul's Espistle To The Romans seem to favor this method, but are you sure? How do you know? What sits well with your spirit may not sit well with mine. Which of us has the Spirit more? Because I'm pretty sure that the same Holy Spirit wouldn't tell me and you two completely different things (or would he? hmmmm. (extremely deep line of thought that I toy with from time to time that would make you think I'm theologically nuts if I told you (but go ahead and ask me about it if you really want to know))).

By the way, good luck with Ecumenism when you try this one.


Concerning c): Makes you sound like a sheep, right? Well, maybe. You could also make the argument that you're just that humble and dead to self to the point where you need no prideful self-interpretation. You could argue it either way, but either way, you're not going bother getting your own food from scripture with this one, which will stifle your growth in Christ.

That, and a heck of a lot of Christians (and even non-Christians) won't respect you.


Now, I want to lead others to Christ with my life. For some reason, I have this crazy idea that my dumb blog could help me with that. But for this reason, as well as the fact that I feel called (like, 'one of my life-purposes' called) to promote unity between Christians of all denominations, I have consciously abstained from discussing scripture here thus far. I don't want to publicly argue with you about the Bible, plain and simple. It's too messy, and frankly, it makes Christians look like we don't love each other. Atheists mock our thousands of denominations and variance with scripture interpretation all the time, and rightly so-- if Jesus is the real deal, why aren't his followers united like he wanted them to be? Our venomous attitudes toward each other and our attitudes of superiority concerning Biblical interpretation really do kill our witness.

Nonetheless, I do have some ideas that I thought you might like. :D

There are some verses that, honestly, make Christianity really really hard, and it would be nice if they just weren't there. Do you know what I mean?

Check out Luke 6:

²⁷"But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, ²⁸bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. ²⁹If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. ³⁰Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. ³¹Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Really, Jesus? Did you honestly mean all that? Because, if I follow verses 27-31, I will become a doormat. Now, maybe the idea of this verse is that God would reward your right attitude, were you to behave in this way, and not let you come to harm if you really truly lived this out. Then again: what if God doesn't reward your right attitude. He never says he will here. Really, you get the idea from these verses that Jesus doesn't view this behavior as exemplary or notable, but simply as the way you ought to behave. I don't get the impression that (now, I could be wrong, but--) this behavior is anything more than what Jesus expects of all of us, all the time.

Moving on . . .

³²"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' love those who love them. ³³And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' do that.

This is, for me personally, the most convicting verse in the Bible. Who honestly lives like this? Don't we all love those who love us, and do good to those who do good to us? This is especially troubling for those of us who are married, as I am, because according to what Jesus is laying out here, me loving my wife and being good to her is nothing special at all. Why? Because she loves me back, and is good to me too. It's easy to love her-- I GET LOVE BACK WHEN I DO. It's easy to do nice things for her-- SHE'S NICE TO ME WHEN I DO. Really, when I examine my own life with family and friends, what am I living for? Quid pro quo? Is quid pro quo honorable? Really, it's not. Quid pro quo is just selfishness justified with logic and in Latin.

Going further: consider your demeanor, if you're a Christian, around your church friends, in light of this verse. I'm sure you're smiley and huggy, warm and interested, and have plenty of time for them. So am I. I love my church friends-- they're pleasant people, and make it really easy to be pleasant back. But by Jesus' standards, am I anything more than a sinner by being pleasant around these people? Not if I'm not just as pleasant, interested, and devoted to everyone else in my life (confession: I'm not), no matter who they are, or how they treat me.

And I'm not even going to get into what he says next about lending to people (hint: the US would be bankrupt in seconds if it carried out this principle). Suffice to say that we all need enormous amounts of grace and humility if we're going to live out the Gospel. And since enormous amounts of grace and humility are hard to come by . . . darn it, why did Jesus have to say this stuff?



What about you? Are there any verses that you (be honest) would be happier without?

A Long Line of Witnesses

Being a Christian since I was a small child, I received the Gospel from my parents.

My dad received the gospel from my mom. My mom received the Gospel from a friend of hers she was teaching with at the time, and her teacher-friend received the Gospel from

. . . Jesus, if you go back far enough.

I've been thinking about this for a while now. A few months ago, it was Ascension Sunday, which takes place liturgically 40 days after Easter, hence Ascension Sunday-- the day Jesus ascended.

Anyway, Father Kinn was talking about how, ever since the ascension Sunday, Christianity has been a religion of faith. Once upon a time, if someone said to you "Who is this Jesus, anyway?" you could reply "Let's go see him. I hear he's in Capernaum right now." This would've been especially useful after he was resurrected (though it does seem like he only appeared when he wanted to at that point, when you look at the scriptural accounts). Then Jesus left us for heaven, and since then, we have had to rely on the testimony of those who witnessed him alive as a man. Some might take up the argument that Jesus really left his followers in a bind, as they were now forced to persuade people about Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection, instead of letting Jesus himself do the talking as living evidence.

But Fr. Kinn doesn't think so. He offered that it was necessary for Jesus to leave us behind so that our religion would be able to be based on faith instead of evidence; the historical Jesus had to be left behind so that we could embrace the echastological and spiritual Jesus, in faith. That got me thinking, and he's right-- Christ himself even said as much. Jesus told his Apostles that they would be better off when he left, because they would then be able to rely on the Holy Spirit, who can be with them always and everywhere.

So he left us. But in exchange, he gave his followers the Holy Spirit.

But those who do not profess Christ do not have the Holy Spirit yet (or do they? hmmm), so we must rely on our testimony to convince them. Our testimony is this: Jesus lived. And then Jesus died. Jesus was resurrected, and ascended into heaven, where he waits for those of us who love him, and for those of us who have not yet come to know him. How can we testify of this good news, of this Gospel?

Seriously, Kevin, how the heck do you know? You've only heard about Jesus because of your parents. You've never seen him. You've never felt him. How do you know Jesus did these things? How do you know he even existed?

Well, I would obviously say that I have felt and seen Jesus in my life, my whole life (George Strait: "I Saw God Today"-- great song). But I understand how easily that could be dismissed and explained away, and not just by those who would question my faith, but even by myself and my own hard and unbelieving heart, were my faith to be tried and fail. I've only recently come to understand this facet of my Christian faith, but there really is a much firmer and more ancient foundation than I used to realize, one that predates even the Bible.

You see, we evangelicals love to say the word witness. We love to call ourselves witnesses, and we often refer to the proselyting of our religion as "witnessing." But while I am a "witness" of Jesus' power and love, I am not an actual witness of his gospel. Neither did my parents, whom I received the Gospel from, see him, and neither did the woman my mother received it from.

now imagine this . . .

But 2000 years ago, a Jew named Abijah saw Jesus ascend into heaven. Then he told his wife Sarah about it. His wife told her friend Dinah about it, and Dinah told her kids. When they grew up, Dinah's kids started a new church in Asia Minor, and that church brought the message of Christ to a man named Cyrus, who moved to Italy, where he told several friends about Jesus. The grandchildren of Cyrus' friends were among the first to bring the Gospel to the Franks. 900 years later, a Frank named Guy led a Germanic, Pagan town to Jesus. 800 Years later, a man from a nearby city marries a woman from that Germanic town, where she received a strong faith from her grandmother. She leads her husband to Christ. Their children then emigrated to America, where their grandchildren settled in Chicago. A few generations later, a woman descended from those settlers began "witnessing" to a co-worker of hers. That co-worker brought the Gospel to her husband, and together, they raised their children as Christians.

And here I am. I will live, share this good news with others, especially my wife and our future children, and then pass away, leaving the message in good hands, all so they too can pass it on.

I come from a long line of witnesses. It is a very long line of witnesses, but we have been witnesses nonetheless. Each of us accepted what we heard in faith, and through that faith, we have then seen the Lord and received his salvation.

This is our faith. This is the faith that has endured for millennia, passed from generation to generation. It will continue to be passed on, from generation to generation, until all the world hears it. And then our Lord will come. We accept this in faith because, once upon a time, so long ago that it is untraceable, this faith was not faith at all, but was witnessed, founded, and then passed on. It will continue to be passed on, always and forever. This is our faith, and it will endure.