What does it mean to be a Christian?

What could it mean?

So I'm thinking about starting up some kind of a Bible study or maybe more like getting a group of people together to try and have some of this open dialog space. It would be so great to just have some interesting conversations with people and see what they think about the stories. I'm hoping for a good skeptic or two.

So to brainstorm what we'd talk about:

What does it mean to be a Christian (or, better yet, a christian?)

--Are there certain things you must do to qualify? Things you must believe?

--Does it require a particular political philosophy?

--What is the spirituality of being a christian?

--What is the cost of being a christian?

--Why would anyone in their right mind become a christian? :-)

I think there could be some good stories in the Bible about these things, but more as founding stories--principles--than as strict guides.

Suggestions?

The Bible is not an Almanac

I don't know if this has ever happened to you, but I've had the chance to speak with a few people like the ones mentioned my last post, and often times half the argument involves quoting from the Bible.

My favorite part of one argument was when someone brought up a verse from one of the books in the New Testament, I think Timothy, that says something like "All Scripture is true and good for instruction," to refute my assertion that not all scripture should be interpreted the way that they were telling me it should be interpreted.

So then I said, Well you can't just take a piece of paper and write on it: "Everything I write on this piece of paper is true" and then write whatever you want. And have it be true. I can't remember how the rest of the conversation went, but don't worry, I didn't "win."

Anyway, this is not to say that the Bible isn't true. Because really, what does it mean for something to be true? An almanac is true in one way: along with many other facts, it tells you when the sun will come up and go down every day of the year. Very nice.

But the Bible isn't an almanac. I like to think of it as being more like a good historical novel with lots of other tidbits thrown in. There's drama, passion, sinning, and redemption. There are wise sayings, quirky stories, suffering and joy. And then--I admit--a whole lot of really boring lists of family trees. (Of course, if you or someone you know is researching their ancestry, you know that family trees are not boring to the people who belong to them)

I think of the Bible as being true in two particular ways:

1. It's true the way great literature is true because it speaks to the human experience on a very real level.

So when Peter sees his beloved teacher Jesus being led away to jail, torture and death, he's scared and unsure and he pretends he doesn't know him, in spite of bold words only days before. How human! He says one thing, and then gets embarrassed and denies it, and then feels ashamed about the betrayal. Who hasn't hurt a friend, or betrayed a cause at least once in their lives?

2. It's true because sometimes God gets involved when we read it.

Here's the part that you may just have to keep your mind open for but not necessarily have to buy into just yet. The spiritual part: God talks to humans, sometimes. And one way God uses is through these stories and maxims and rules. Not always--God's not an almanac either--but sometimes, when our hearts and our souls are open and listening, and when the words are just the ones we need to hear. Maybe just once in our whole life--or maybe a hundred times--if we're humble and patient, those words can be words from God to us, somehow, mysteriously, amazingly.

That is the truth I mean.

Could we have some safe space to dialogue here?

The other night I met a woman who wrote a book about spirituality (The book is a series of interviews where she asks: "If I gave you God's phone number, what would you do with it?"), and she said she got two very different sets of responses: there were some very fundamentalist christians who would get in these long tiring arguments with her or tell her she was going to hell, etc., etc., and then there were a lot of people who really did want to learn more about spirituality, and welcomed her book as being very insightful and helpful.

Based on this woman's experiences, I can see why there are so many people who would never think of going to church to talk about spirituality. Because you wouldn't get to talk or experiment or try things on. You'd just have to listen to somebody tell you what to think.

So my question is: why do the super-agressive annoying "evangelists" have to be the only voice for christianity? I'm a christian myself and I don't like it when people come up to me to tell me what I have to do to be saved. Because really, I know they're not going to listen to me unless I say exactly what they want me to say. (Maybe that's an unfair prejudice, but that's been my experience)

Isn't it possible to be christian and still listen to other people with respect?

Maybe even be changed by what you hear?

The Village

Disclaimer: This post is about the new movie by M. Night Shymalan, but of course he has some twists and turns in it and I don't want to ruin it for people who haven't seen it yet, so I'll try to err on the side of vagueness, but I apologize if you learn more plot than you wanted to.

The movie is about people who are isolated from the larger world, and have isolated themselves because of terrible crimes done to their loved ones. There are these terrible beings that stalk them, and they teach their children to protect themselves by carefully managing the use of color.

One thing that particularly stands out for me in this movie is how hard it is to face and live through our sorrows instead of running away from them. That healing requires feeling pain sometimes, and that the people of the village create more pain for themselves in the process of trying to run away from it.

I've also been thinking lately about postmodernism and how certainty, logic and objectivity are falling out of fashion, in a way, and for me this movie is an example of that. To be honest, there are plot holes that you could drive a truck through, but I still really liked the movie, which is not usually the case for me: I'm generally hung up on the niggling details. I think the reason for this is that the whole thing was a total experience--I was caught up in the atmosphere. And finally, those things didn't matter to me because the movie didn't really depend on the plot, in a certain way--the metaphors speak on a deeper level than the basic facts of the case. You don't expect poetry to have logical consistency.