Unemployed Theologian

I tried to fall asleep early on the night of November 8th. I figured, as did many Americans, that the election would go in Hillary’s favor, but that it might be a rough ride to the finish line, so I tried to skip the drama and wake up in the morning with a new president-elect. Needless to say, sleep proved elusive, as I checked election results on my phone every five minutes or so for hours. Around midnight, when the unthinkable suddenly became the inevitable, I sat up in my bed and started sobbing. Few of my friends spent much time before the election worrying about the results. Hillary would take it for sure, they figured. Nobody seemed to seriously consider the possibility that we might elect an unstable reality tv star (with a racist and sexist streak) to the highest office in the land. But it was all I could think about. I carried a sense of dread with me every day for about six months, as friends, coworkers and family assured me it would turn out alright. But on that night, ...

Before we get into this let me provide a disclaimer or two: I'm a Jesus person. I'm a Gospel person. I'm a church person. These are my spiritual, theological convictions, and I do not demand that you share them, but I do ask that you respect them, and maybe even consider them. I'm scared. I'm scared that I might be the problem, or at least a major part of it. I'm scared because I'm not sure whether what I do, the job I perform, is making the world better, or if it is actually undergirding some great evil. The job? I consider myself something of a theologian, or at least a theologian-in-training. By that I mean I interpret and teach Scripture vocationally. I think, speak and write about God. I attend a well-reputed seminary to learn about faith, church, religion and the Divine. And most days I love it. I'm thrilled over the work I’ll get to do in my lifetime: proclaiming the good news of Christ, bringing hope into situations where it’s wantin...

I don't have a catchy angle for this one, folks. No hook. No pithy observation or witticism to capture your attention. I have only the stomachache that kept me up last night, one prompted by what's going on two-thirds of the way across in the country. In Ferguson, Missouri. Believe me, I'm as surprised as any of you that this whole Ferguson thing is eliciting any thought from me at all. What does it matter to me? For one thing, I live in Oregon. Geographically, Ferguson could not be less on my radar. Additionally, I have had maybe one or two run ins with police in my whole life, none of them significant (traffic ticket, maybe some domestic dispute when I was a kid). Plus, ya know, I've got that whole, white guy thing going. I have a few black friends, but none I've had the opportunity to sit down with and discuss the particulars of this situation. So what's my deal? To be totally honest, on a purely intellectual level I don't actually understand what's ...

Good grief. What a week. While I'm nearing the end of my Advent-time reflections on the season, I'm afraid a pressing issue necessitates that I shelve that project to address something which has so captured the public attention. I'm talking, of course, about the scandal surrounding Duck Dynasty patriarch Phil Robertson, who was quoted in GQ magazine making controversial claims about homosexuality (and race, lest we forget). There are several troubling issues at play here which I feel warrant addressing. One is this bizarre discussion surrounding "rights" and "freedoms" which has popped up since the scandal arose. Some claim Robertson ought not be punished for exercising his freedom of speech, for voicing his personal, religiously-founded beliefs and opinions. I have no qualm here. From a democratic, political standpoint, Robertson certainly had the right to say what he did. No one is arguing he had no right to make disparaging comme...

I have had it up to here *holds hand over head* with those who use the Bible, and worse still, the Gospel, to justify their hate and bigotry. I have HAD IT. To think the good news of Christ, of God's redemption of His beloved world would ever become a weapon used against His children, to think the cross would ever become a sword , it makes me sick. It repulses me.   When did the story of a God who stooped down low to love His children, specifically  those most outcast among their peers, become a tool of subjugation and oppression in the hands of the powerful and pious? When did we give the keys to the Kingdom back to the Pharisees? I'm afraid I know the answer: almost immediately. A few hundred years into Christendom, as soon as Christians got a little political power, we started rounding up and casting out all those on the fringes. We started neglecting the poor and equating prosperity and military victory with divine favor. When the church betrayed Her Bridegroo...