Thoughts on Being a Guest

I mentioned in my post yesterday that I am currently staying in Belmont, NC, in a huge home nestled in a private cove on Lake Wiley, which runs across the North Carolina-South Carolina border. It's a beautiful place. Flavius and Gigi did a great job when designing this place. It's really something to see. But staying with them actually sends me back to a much different place where I stayed long ago.

Summer 1999. La Plata, Argentina. I was hanging out in that courtyard of the giant cathedral you see to the right. It is properly called the Cathedral of La Plata. It is one of the largest cathedrals in Latin America. The courtyard in front of it was filled with Argentinians riding bikes, enjoying food, playing soccer. It was a great place to be. And this cathedral was one of the only places I got to really be a tourist in Argentina.

Quick side story. The rest of my team got to go out into Buenos Aires and enjoy the city. I was super pumped about exploring a great world city like Buenos Aires, but before we left La Plata we decided to have an Argentinians versus Americans indoor soccer match. My soccer experience ended at approximately 9 years old because of politics...no really, small town politics ended the soccer careers of a ton of kids from Florence, Texas. Ask our parents! So, I was holding my own on the pitch and went to challenge a gentleman who had played around 20 years of professional soccer, but had long since been retired. He kicked, I kicked. My ankle snapped. Broken ankle last night in La Plata. I learned how to navigate on crutches in international airports. And that is why I missed our touristy excursion into Buenos Aires.

But more important than that I learned a lot about hospitality on that trip, particularly how to receive hospitality. My team leaders were Gary Adam and Melissa Prehoda (and unofficially Carl Gulley, who as you can see is a fun guy who loves his bbq). They were quite a team. But Gary was "the dude" for this trip. A lot of this was his passion, his people and we were making connections through him. What I most think of concerning Gary was our wake-up calls.

Every morning Gary would grab his new bull whip, crack it in our room and holler "Get your coondog butts out of bed." I still don't know where Gary is from that he decided that coondog was a term of endearment for college-aged dudes. And I'm not certain, but I am pretty sure the ladies on our trip did not wake up with the same ritual.

But aside from bullwhips and Southern slang what stuck out about Gary was his passion for being a good guest. Before we left Texas we were told we would eat whatever was placed before us. We would smile and be gracious because the people we were staying with made sacrifices for us. At the time we didn't realize the extent of those sacrifices. For instance the pastor of the church built a second story onto his house to host us. The church took time and had every meal but lunch prepared for us on that trip...and that includes morning snack and siesta.

But the most visible sacrifice in my mind was Perro. Perro was this pot bellied pig that lived with us in Argentina. He was almost as cute as this gal to the right. He greeted us at the door. He expected scratches behind the ears. In other words, he deserved his name. For those of you non-Spanish speakers, Perro is Spanish for dog.

We grew attached to Perro. He was cool. One day, after doing an outreach downtown we came home to a wonderful smell. We were finally getting some of that amazing Argentinian barbecue we had heard about. It was an exciting day! I'm not sure who was the first to notice, but I think it had to be Liz, but Perro was nowhere to be found.

Well, we could have found him...if we had just gone to the backyard and looked on the spit. Perro was dinner that night. At this point the words of Gary came back to haunt nearly every one of us. We were about to partake in our beloved mascot. But without a single word, Gary communicated with strong glances, "You WILL eat Perro whether you want to or not." And to the credit of everyone on that team did. And I think we all learned from that experience.

What we learned is that just because a host is making a big deal out of you being with them mutuality in relationship does not end. In simpler terms it's not now just about you. That was something I should have picked up on as a kid, because my family would say similar things. When that little old aunt offers you a hard candy that is probably a decade old, you take it, say thank you, mean what you said and suck that Werther's down (as fast as you can), because the other person matters. When the family you are staying with cooks their pet pig...you eat it.

I think we miss out on the importance of this culturally and probably in the Church as well. When we enter someone's home there is a certain reverencing that takes place. We deem the other worthy of our time. We would never use such strong language, but it is nonetheless true. Even if you don't want to spend time with someone, if you decide you must go, it means there is something worth it to you. The converse is also true, we will reject hospitality at times not because of other engagements, but simply because we do not deem the other person worthy. That is harsh, but also nonetheless true.

I have learned over the years to be a good guest. When Gary told me I would eat everything before me, I didn't agree:
"I don't like fish.
"That is fine, you'll eat it just the same."
"But, why?"
"Because when you reject the offerings of your host...you reject your host."

When you put it in such strong, plain terms it makes sense. To reject your host's offerings is to sleight your host. But often in our ego-centric mindsets (and that's not negative, it's just natural that we think of ourselves first) we neglect to think about the ramifications of: I'll just bring my own food...or...why don't we go out...or...why don't I cook...or...whatever it is. In other words, we let our self-importance reign over the sacrifice and offerings of people who are wanting to love on us.

The Apostle Paul talked about being all things to all people. And that is, I believe, related. To be a good guest means to be interested in museums, rodeos, lakes, history, subtleties of coffee, repeated stories, etc. And I think that is important and part of the great command, to love the Lord our God, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. And I struggle with it, but I know this...when I do my best to be a good guest it's more enjoyable; and I think that is simply related to doing what you are supposed to do. There is joy in honoring and love others well.

Thoughts on the Church

One of my last summers at Fuller I signed up for a class on Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Like the Nouwen class I have described, this class was explicitly dedicated to studying Bonhoeffer. My friend Derrick signed up along with a pastor from Montecito. The only hang up was the drive to Ventura and overnight stays in a hotel since the class was Friday night and all day Saturday. Luckily, Derrick and I decided to split a hotel room each of the three weekends.

As is prone to happen in such a small class we went through the initial “awkward class” phase quite quickly. Derrick and I only had two personalities to get used to, Patterson had years of experience, and Chris was just a cool dude.

During the third weekend we took lunch altogether, which we did each Saturday. We went to Dargan’s to grab a pint of beer and discuss “When is the Church no longer the Church.” Now, before you judge too harshly a bunch of theologians, sitting around deciding what action or belief is acceptable for the Church and who is in or out, you have to remember the topic of the course…Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer lived in a time and situation I doubt any of us will ever really have to go through, the church of his home was caught up in the throes of Nazism. Bonhoeffer had to legitimately tackle the question of what Church meant, and conversely what it meant to be a part of that Church.

For the three of us, the conversation revolved around PCUSA and the ordination of homosexuals. Why? Because Patterson and Thomas were PCUSA ministers. It was quite contextual. These men were part of a denomination deciding the future for congregants based on theological beliefs and understandings, while also reflecting the views of different parishes.

Now the purpose of this post is not to expose the views of either Patterson or Thomas. I spent a total of about 36 hours with these guys, well maybe 60 for Chris since I crashed on his couch twice…during the Olympics, which was kinda cool. (Side note. I still think Chad is Rad!) The point is there is this ongoing idea that runs into Christians’ minds of what (who?) is the Church. Most probably wouldn’t want to use that exact term, because it is uncomfortable to make this decisive statement that this person or that church or no longer Christian. I say most, because some people have no problem with it.

To a certain extent that is what the three of us discussed as I drank a Smithwick's for the first time. The two of them were discussing what was going on in PCUSA, while I avoided that altogether, being a theological mutt and not calling PCUSA my home. At the time, and to a certain point still today, I was more concerned with the lack of justice and sensitivity to a racially divided church. I was and am more concerned that men and women of different races and ethnicities have had such a hard time even endorsing one another, let alone worshipping together.

I doubt we ever came to concensus in that little pub to whether the PCUSA was still a true church. If we did, that was certainly not the takeaway I had from our conversations. But this takes me back to my previous post: when you are this lonesome, charismatic intellectual, how do you know that what you are doing, who you are, and who you worship with are still the true church? What are the anchors when your denomination is kinda loosey-goosey, this particular location looks like this, and that particular location really likes studying Romans more than speaking in tongues?

These are the theological questions that should be answered and can keep someone awake at night. So, what I came up with is this:

I believe in God, the Father almighty,

creator of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died, and was buried;

he descended to the dead.

On the third day he rose again;

he ascended into heaven,

he is seated at the right hand of the Father,

and he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting.

Amen.

That’s right…a Charismatic evangelical finding orthodoxy in an ancient, Catholic Creed. What is Orthodoxy you may ask?

To be orthodox, or to hold orthodox views can mean one of two related things: First, to hold an orthodox view is “conforming to the approved form of any doctrine.” Second, to hold an orthodox view is to hold to a “sound or correct opinion or doctrine.” Those should go hand-in-hand. Conforming to an approved should belief should also indicate that it is the sound and correct opinion. However, as the narrative of culture changes things what is orthodox can be changed.

Simply stated, I choose not to worry too much about anything outside of this. If the men and women I worship with can affirm these basic beliefs of the early church, who took dedicated time to boil down the essentials of faith into a succinct text, that for the most part was unanimously agreed upon, then that is safe to serve as my baseline.

I know there are many arguments that come against this. For example, “James, you will have to give account for what you did on this earth. Did you do this for the poor, that for the homosexual, that for the mentally ill?” Others will say it is theologically irresponsible. "You need to have a definitive stance on what is permissible and what is not permissible. Who can continue fellowship, who can partake of the table, etc." And those are legitimate concerns and arguments. However, I think at the heart of the Gospel, at the core of loving God with every part of me, and loving everyone on earth, as I look for anchor on who the Church is, and what is still orthodox, anyone who can still agree to this is still fine in my book.

And I guess that is why I can hold a book by Thomas Merton in one hand, a book by Miroslav Volf in another, while listening to a sermon by Joyce Mayer. It’s also why I don’t worry if the Episcopals I worship with each Easter openly affirm LBGTQ, while the Vineyard I attend tends to be quite conservative. I trust that the men and women of both congregations are working out their salvation with fear and trembling and know both to worship the same Jesus. And sure, some may say that is a bit shortsighted, but I choose to err on the side of grace when the God I worship spent his time hanging out with hookers and outcasts.