Y’all, I heart Joe Carter. I realize I should probably let him know on his own blog, but his commenters are quick and intimidating and when they get done, fangirling him just seems stupid. Luckily, I have my own blog where I can fangirl everybody, all the time. Last week Joe wrote Fads and Fixtures: Ten Deadly Trappings of Evangelism. Yes, the title is a little over the top, but the rest of the post is good. So good that as I was reading it, before I had even finished it, I was IMing Honu Girl with excerpts saying, “I want to french kiss this man!” Which is naughty, I know, but still.
I still haven’t found a church to attend, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to go to one. And when it comes to saying why I don’t like going to certain churches or speaking in certain ways I find myself relatively inarticulate. Most of this is not wanting to speak badly of something most people hold dear. The rest is, to some extent, my natural inclination to lurk– much of what people do and say and think of as religion seems to me to be fandom. And I can appreciate that they’re parts of that particular fandom and I can even really dig their main character, I’m not into it. That is to say, I don’t know their tropes and speech patterns; I’m not a part of their community.
Joe’s post is a top ten of evangelical fads, and it reads to me as clearly as if he were writing meta for fandom_wank or similar. The first three topics read straight, too: making converts, the sinner’s prayer, and the awful “Do you know Jesus as…” as if anything other than “personal savior” could follow. I ask these questions all the time, except I do it by asking if people know the story of Malcolm Reynolds and I’d be pleased to buy them some DVDs, genuinely, and what’s it about? Well, it’s starts, “Here’s how it is. Earth got used up.”
I’m being facetious, but I need to be facetious to get a handle on things. So much of my life I was told that if I didn’t participate in and love and embrace these things, these memes, that I was hellbound. And that never sat right with me, because no where in the bible did it say that I was doomed if I didn’t speak in tongues, or did go to church for seven hours on a Sunday, or any of the things that are so important, so many of the things people flash as cred. His number four is where I really freaked out though– Tribulationism. I read the first three or four books of the Left Behind series because my mom seemed to really love them, everybody seemed to really love them, and they were just sitting around. I stopped not because I don’t like Christian literature, but because they were crap. They are awful. Not as bad as The DaVinci Code, but in the same zip code of awfulness and furthermore, people started to think they were the history of the future. And Joe summed it all up perfectly:
Ask a non-believer to give a rudimentary explanation of “the Rapture” and chances are they can provide a fairly accurate description of that concept. Ask the same person to give a basic explanation of the Gospel message, though, and they are likely to be stumped. The reason for this curious state of affairs is that evangelicals have promoted what I refer to as “Tribulationism” — an overemphasis on eschatology that overshadows the Gospel. I’m sure that somewhere in the three dozen novels that comprise the Left Behind series the Gospel message is presented. But there is something horribly wrong when the greatest story ever told is buried beneath a third-rate tale of the apocalypse.
At this point, Doc knows more about the Left Behind series than I do, because he’s read more of them and as far as I know, he’s not big on The Religion. And I can’t find anybody who can talk about what charismatic eschatology was before 1890, because this idea caught on so hard (undoubtedly because it’s the most dramatic– yet another mark of fannishness) that now even Catholics, for whom this is most certainly not dogma, accept it as fact that just doesn’t get talked about in any homily they’ve ever heard. And the literature itself is drivel! Pure, unadulterated nonsense. What the hell kind of name is Rayford? Carpathia? That’s the best last name you could come up with for the Spawn of Satan? And Chloe and that reporter guy are like, 25 years old and you’ve got them worried about kissing? I’m fixin’ to throw my Oxford Chinese minidictionary across the room because it’s the only book handy and some book needs to get thrown!
Calming down a bit, even if you’re not all het up about lousy literature, we can all agree on Joe’s eighth point: the endless rambling of protestant prayer that contains a minimum of 50 “justs.” I don’t know how many times I’ve sat or stood or whatever rolling my closed eyes in my bowed head because the prayer went, “LORD, we just, we come here to today to just, Lord, we just worship you and praise you right now. We just come before you as sinners to praise you and we just want you to hear us and just feel the stirrings of our hearts, Lord.” And on and on like that for ten more minutes while we begged forgiveness for our sorry worthlessness, then “just” asked for a random blessing then “just” asked for a more specific blessing then “just” said kthnxamen. Almost as if someone started a meme that said you wouldn’t get taken up in the Rapture unless you could pack 35 uses of the word just into any given prayer, even those out front of dinner.
We have entire books to teach us how to pray yet Jesus managed to wrap up the lesson in less than forty words. Why isn’t that prayer good enough for evangelicals to use? Why do our prayers sound nothing like His example?
Indeed. In the end, I only want to redouble my effort to find somewhere to worship that’s not all covered in this, if there is such a place. I don’t want to go to a church with 3000 people and all kinds of programs. I don’t want to go to a church where I have to read 4 pieces of outside literature a month to keep up with the teaching. I don’t want a church that’s more about “support” than learning, or where I can’t raise my hand to ask a question. Are there such places? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one.