I am posting at breakneck speed because I have been ill for the past two weeks, battling once again bronchitis that is trying its damndest to turn into pneumonia. My cancer is of the immune system; therefore, I am very vulnerable to infections and, indeed, the most likely way I will die is from an overwhelming infection such as pneumonia. I don’t share this out of pity, but to explain that I am almost homebound, not hiking with my group, doing little work on my cottage, and left with time on my hands. I can stare into space and contemplate the true meaning of life, watch science documentaries (which I’ve spent the morning doing), or write. I’m between major editing sessions on my work in progress, my book How Cancer Taught Me to Swear, so I am posting daily here. That will change as soon as I find a healthy footing again and the bastard myeloma stops trying to kill me… for now.

Re-reading my previous posts, I want to be clear: I am not advocating that the entire monstrosity of the Christian religion, with all of its traditions, be destroyed. I know plenty of people love that culture—Sunday morning church services, not saying taboo words, praying before they eat, always being positive, loving church music, etc.—and there is nothing wrong with that. Those are good people. But my point is for those who are leaving Christianity entirely because they were not allowed to not like that extraneous culture.

Often, when a teenager first asks, “Do I have to go to church today?” The well-meaning parent, who, like most, has blended the American Christian culture with basic Christian thinking so systematically that they cannot even imagine following Jesus without being part of an organized religion, draws an unfortunate line of demarcation. “Yes, you have to go to church… why wouldn’t you? Are you turning your back on God?”

No, here is the honest truth. Why would a teenager want to go to church in the first place? For seventeen hundred years, going to church service on Sunday morning has been an act of penitence, sometimes felt as torture. For many, guilt forces them to go, not a natural desire. And here is the kicker: it has NOTHING to do with loving God or following Jesus.

I’ve said before, the church I attend is the best I’ve attended in my life; the preacher gives the best messages, yet I loathe Sunday morning church services and have attended them for 71 years. It is a production. Very little human interaction happens there, not more than at a play or concert. My favorite part of the service was coffee time, when you could experience a little fellowship and human discourse. But because of my immune system, it is dangerous for me to participate in any closed space with lots of people.

For the traditionalist Christian reading this, I guarantee that if I say I do not like the production of the Sunday morning worship in any church, they think that I am therefore inferior, spiritually, to them. That something is spiritually wrong with me. I do not love God if I do not love church.

This may sound silly, but I’m using this as a cultural example. Imagine our culture had a tradition that, to show you love God, you must go bowling on Saturday morning. Then a child comes along who hates bowling and doesn’t want to go. Then we assume they hate God and don’t give them the opportunity to love God outside of bowling.

Like I said yesterday, fish did not discover water. They couldn’t. It was such a part of who they are that they couldn’t see the water. Here are some things to think about. Neither Jesus, Paul, nor the disciples ever darkened the door of a Sunday morning church service… not once. All the trappings of Christianity were created by humans as an effort to feel more pious.

What about worship? Christian worship is a human-derived idea, not a Biblical one. That doesn’t make it bad, just extraneous. As Paul wrote to the Romans, giving your life to God (living sacrifice) is our reasonable act of worship. Not singing songs, praying together, trying to have some emotional experience. Those things are fine, but they’re not worship.

I have many arguments to address here, but I’m running out of time. I will address them later. But it is a travesty that the Christian influence is sharply declining in our society, and most who are leaving are doing so because they don’t like the culture, yet we are forcing them to like it or leave.

So, what does it take to be a Christian? It is profoundly simple. It is following the teachings of Jesus. The teachings of Jesus are also profoundly simple: “Love God and love others as yourself… full stop.” When you start adding things, “Well, if you really love God, you will love going to church.” Stop doing that.

I hope the traditional church has a long, healthy life, for the sake of those good people who love it. But be honest: if you don’t like it, why are you doing it except out of guilt? But the real question, the one that keeps me up at night, is: why are you requiring others to adopt the entire Christian cultural enterprise and not allowing them to simply follow Jesus? I’ve advocated many times for a church to have the traditional events for those who could not imagine it any other way, and have a parallel involvement for people like me, and those who are leaving, where we can experience social fellowship and get involved with the service projects showing love to the community, which my own church is so good at… but make Sunday morning church optional without condemnation if you do not attend.

I’ll write more about this later. I’m working on a concept of a Secular Rational Christian. One devoid of religious trappings (thus secular), returning to the rational thinking the church once embraced.

I’ll close with another personal example of this problem. If you have been coming here for a few years, this story might be familiar. It is also similar to the last example I posted.

In the 1990s, I was a deacon (the same as an elder in a Presbyterian Church) at a nondenominational evangelical church in Marquette, Michigan. During our annual planning session, the deacons agreed that the next year we would focus on the “unchurched.”

The Marquette community was divided between the churched (mostly Lutheran, Catholic, or evangelical) and the people who hung out at the bars. So, I went to the biggest bar in town and spoke with the owner about meeting there on Saturday nights to discuss the Bible and our lives. He thought it was weird, but said, “As long  as you buy beer and don’t harass my other customers, it would be fine.”

I discussed this with our soft-spoken, kind pastor, and he liked the idea… but he didn’t hold the power at that church. The head deacon, Bob, held most of the power there.

At our next meeting, I presented my idea, and Bob asked, with gritted teeth, “You will require them to attend Sunday service the next morning too?”

“How can I do that? They are adults and will attend if they want.”

Bob then shouted at me, “You make me sick to my stomach. You just want to create another sorry excuse for people missing church!”

Another elder told me later, “After you left, Mike, Bob shared that he was starting to think you are demon-possessed for having such an idea of taking the Bible into a place where they served beer.

Later, when Bob found out I was teaching a philosophy class at the Marquette community library on the differences between Christian thinking and Eastern religious traditions (knowing that one of the greatest threats to Christianity was coming from Eastern religious thinking re-marketed as New Age Spirituality), Bob became convinced I was with the devil and removed me from being a deacon.

I don’t feel welcome at most churches, not because I am oversensitive, but because if I speak my mind, I am condemned, as in that example above. So, when I go to church, I must put on a mask that I’m like them, and I hate being pretentious.

Respectfully,

Mike