A peculiar narcissism feigns me to believe, concerning my decision to remove myself from the staff and fellowship of the saints at FBBC, that some persons may give a damn. Yet, if experience is any teacher, then I am inclined to presume the opposite. Instead, I should presuppose that life will march on and my resignation and departure, like much of life’s ebb and flow, will soon be a faint memory of the distant past. Perhaps a compromise can be made? Perhaps there might be a handful of dinner conversations or coffee gossip that will surround the topic of my resignation and departure, but these conversations will, like the vapor of a pot of coffee, dissipate into the oblivion of infinite space never to be subject of gossip again. So this little piece of writing will allow me to collect my thoughts and distill them onto the written page for a time in the future when I may wonder at THE decision due to a frail and dusty memory.
Leaving a church community of three and half decades is mentally and physically toilsome. Breaking with the tradition of your youth has the tendency to stir up many deep seated emotions and insecurities. Like many decisions which require careful thought and rumination, some length of time to ponder the strong inner compulsion to resign was agreed upon and subsequently satisfied. As is common to situations wherein one brawls with a decision of lasting and significant degree, a particular episode manifested itself that I shall here relieve of its mental prison so that it might be recalled as the episode that ultimately permitted my final resignation and departure.
By way of introduction it so happened that this particular episode was a happenstance exchange between my father and I, the result of which was that it gave credence to the acceptance and authority of my inner-voice which was markedly in favor of my resignation and departure.
In brevity, I shall describe the critical episode.
On a certain late summer Wednesday evening during the mid-week service my father was teaching on the Gospel of John from the fourteenth chapter. In the course of his exposition he came upon the second verse wherein Jesus declares (King James Version) to his disciples that there are many “mansions” in the Father’s house. For a reason heretofore unknown he stopped to comment and to note that some modern translations had adopted the translation of “rooms” in place of “mansions” and that he (my father) rather preferred the latter “mansions” because he was inclined to the conviction that, in his own words, “God did things big.” In other words, the very accurate translation “rooms” of modern translations was insufficient because it promoted a seemingly low view of God’s ability and a lessening of the grandeur and opulence of the blessed hope. At any rate, this comment took me by surprise (though I am not sure why) and I noted it for further discussion.
The following day while at the church office I raised the issue with my father concerning his comment and this immediately opened the door to a stand-off shown-down of biblical proportion for some length of time, perhaps an hour or so. Looking back on the exchange, perhaps my approach to the opening of the conversation was perceived as confrontational and so the war of ideas and propositions that flared in short time could have been avoided had I been more congenial? In some small way, to my father’s defense, my father was required to publicly approve the translation choice of the KJV during his exposition because of the church’s loyalty to the KJV above all other translations (some might call the church, rather disparagingly, a “King James Only” church). However, was not ignoring altogether the issue of translator’s word choice during the exposition a possibility? Be that as it may, I wanted to press him regarding his comment about “God doing things big.”
I raised the discussion for, in my view, the translation “mansion” only serves to promote false pretenses for following Christ as a disciple, pretenses motivated by material envies and social lusts. In my mind the very accurate translation “rooms” emphasizes that God’s welcome is wide, whereas “mansions” in my view emphasizes individuality and reward. The translation “rooms” is more accurate to the ancient context and does not carry with it American twenty-first century materialistic cultural baggage. In a middle class American church the prospects of one-glad-morning-when-this- life-is-over having a mansion is a distinction that serves to separate the affluent from the impoverished, the elite from the common, the blessed from the nobody. Christ’s own experience was that even the Son of Man did not have a home to call his own! A homeless messiah is not calling disciples to himself on the prospects of one day possessing elaborate socially privileged shelter in the sweet bye-and-bye. Jesus was too sophisticated for that sort of social manipulation.
Nonetheless, we began to trade theological blows. My father was belligerent in the defense of his comment and I was belligerent in the defense of my conviction; the heated “discussion” happened to cause some stir around the church office.
So it was from this little interaction that I began to realize that my father would rather persist in his belief regarding the heavenly dwelling of God’s people consisting of large single-family homes characterized by luxury presumably with the goal that his congregants could have a high view of a “big” God and thereby receive the benefits of such a wealthy Divinity. More was his unwillingness to grant that other translations certainly had the sense of the word appropriately translated and the King James choice of wording was less so, especially for a twenty-first century American culture. This little episode confirmed in my heart that FBBC and its senior leadership were not willing to accept the language of the Bible on its own cultural terms, but rather would accept the Bible as it was hoped to be (or presumed to be?) and, more, as its congregants expected it to be.
And so this little episode gave me the fortitude to accept the already-present compulsion to step aside from my role as a church-staffer and accept the full weight of the implication that I would need to formally resign. And with this necessary decision, as in like fashion to the need to extract a tooth or set a bone, it came with some significant acute and some chronic pain. Deep roots come violently.
In light of the decision I believe it important to clearly note that I have no ill-will toward the community, nor my father. Instead, these reasons spring from an interior life of self-honesty, a desire to be true to what I see and three and a half decades of life experience. Of course, my ambitions and preferences and misunderstandings are very real contributors to the decision as well. I would not hope than anyone would smell the scent of a disingenuous, pompous youth. Rather, as I recently read, a childhood faith must die before a new faith can be reborn. In many ways, FBBC (from whence I resigned) represents my childhood faith. It was time for a new faith of my own to be reborn.
Like many significant life decisions no one single reason can be called upon that will explain the action. The preceding story was only the circumstance that gave me the fortitude to act on what was already a mental reality. Instead, a multiplicity of reasons must set the record, and even reasons fully expressed with words cannot unveil the whole story as many internal feelings of which I cannot fully explain persist. Indeed, some reasons are better than others, some are neither good nor bad, but I would hope that the several sensible ruminations may come together to form a coherent set of beliefs that may be compelling to some who will grant that withdrawal was and is the only viable selection.
First, and probably not at all convincing, is a justification that can best be understood through an analogy to a family business. In the eyes of the analogy, my father was the CEO of the family business (the church) for forty and more years. A year ago, in October, 2016, the family “business” was effectively “sold” when my father retired and recommended his replacement, a missionary from the church community. This decided, it was no longer the family business. Yet, myself with significant “business” education and having myself prepared for many years to be a “CEO” like my father, I encountered a crossroads. When my father retired and the “business” was sold, a certain shadow settled upon me and quickly a new reality set in like a late summer fog and I reckoned that I was going to work for another CEO (who was not my father). Over the course of five or so years I grew to know my father, what he believed, what was important to him, and what was acceptable and what was not. Unfortunately, I had none of this history with the new “CEO”. I had neither significant contact, nor significant commonality with the new pastor at all, in fact. Could I work for a new pastor? Would he understand me like my father? These questions were important given a certain lack of experience in the “business”. Was I to stay and work for a new CEO of the family business? Or should I, like a young male lion expelled from the pride of his origin at an age when his maturity seems to threaten the dominance of the pride’s alpha male, set out to find a territory suitable for a future of my own? Intuition suggested that finding suitable territory outside the family business would be better for all.
Second, my reason concerns the nature and power of embedded beliefs. FBBC’s heritage finds its origin and intellectual home in the fundamentalist-modernist controversy of the twentieth century. A strong current of fundamentalism within this stream of Christianity was the influence of Darby-Scofield-Chafer-Ryrie dispensationalism which characterizes much of modern conservative evangelicalism today. An even stronger, more militant current of fundamentalism was found in the dispensationalism espoused by one, now deceased, Peter Ruckman of Pensacola, Florida. Ruckman became a rallying point for FBBC’s approach to Christian identity, teaching, and mission. Ruckman, a cantankerous preacher of separation from all worldly associations and rejection of modernist, “unbelieving” liberal Christianity, was known for his dogmatic assertions that the ills of modern Christianity could be ascribed to the production of “heretical” modern Bible translations by modern liberal “biblical” scholarship and, of course, the great Satan, the Holy See and Pontiff himself; thus, heretical theological beliefs as the result of theological liberalism and Roman Catholicism were to blame for the downfall of the church in America. Ruckman, and a handful of other fundamentalist Christians, claimed that the “true word of God” could only be found in the translation done by King James’ scholars in 1611 (in its modern revised state). According to Ruckman and others like him, true “Bible Believers” - those who believed the Bible (KJV) for what it says uncritically - the King James Bible necessarily taught a system of theology that accorded best with his version of dispensationalism. This system and approach to Christian faith was the anti-intellectualist root that spread rapidly. And even though FBBC no longer espouses a militant approach in the style of Peter Ruckman, it still maintains the embedded beliefs of the fundamentalist movement – especially strong dispensationalism, King James Onlyism, Bibliolatry, Bible-Believe-ism, and antagonism toward any other way of belief that is unlike its own. Unfortunately, my experience with Ruckmanism and fundamentalist Christianity has allowed me to see its fanatical emptiness at the core. Theological systems are flawed, the KJV is only one translation among many, Jesus – not the Bible – is the Christian's proper object of faith, the Bible must be interpreted by humans and was written by humans, thus requiring judicious judgment on the part of its veracity and meaning and purpose, and, lastly, any one expressing strong, unnecessary antagonism is usually feeling strong insecurity. I am not a dispensationalist. I am not a “King James Only” person. I don’t believe in the rapture, a young earth, or that Catholics aren’t Christians (some are, some aren’t). I do not espouse a patriarchal Christianity that assumes woman cannot be in pastoral leadership roles. I tend to be more generous in my interpretation of scripture (i.e. liberal). I am willing to listen to a plurality of voices and believe the Bible speaks with a plurality of many times contrasting voices. I am willing to accept that the Bible is a culturally and historically biased set of documents. I believe in the sufficiency of scripture, but I believe that interpretation of scriptures is a very precarious thing. I can’t, on philosophical grounds, accept the notion of biblical inerrancy. Inerrancy, a technical word, is an unfalsifiable proposition designed to protect the Bible and Christians’ epistemological anxieties. The Scriptures do not need me setting up philosophical bulwarks to guarantee their accuracy. The Bible is able to stand on its own and indeed must stand on its own if it is to be God’s word. The result of these affirmations and denials, counter to official FBBC doctrine, requires the judicious notion that sharing my attitudes and beliefs in settings of official church life at FBBC would be ill-mannered. Further, it would be inappropriate to allot my time as a staff person to a campaign of persuasion in a direction counter the official doctrinal system. In my opinion, it seemed more appropriate to associate with a faith community welcoming of a Christianity of a different quality.
Third, and somewhat important, concerns the culture and style of modern American evangelicalism that leaves me with a sour taste and bitter stomach. Generally speaking, modern American evangelicalism can be described as primarily program-driven, entertainment-thirsty and production-oriented. In my experience the evangelical megachurch movement does not make allowance for the ache in my soul for a connection with God in a sacred time and space. Ignoring the rich past of Christian spiritual tradition and packaging spirituality into “relevant” and “marketable” content for convenient, profitable distribution to mass audiences, Megachurch Christianity according to modern evangelicalism, proves a mile wide and an inch deep. Over the years, as a result of what appears on the surface to be an “identity” problem, FBBC has increasingly moved toward this megachurch/evangelical culture. Having left behind its fundamentalist roots, it now clings to a Christianity that is anchored to attractional-oriented church “growth.” Competition to attract the masses who will fund the programming and building is fierce in these waters.
Fourth, and certainly important. My employment gave me the ability to “follow the money.” The great majority of income was expended on debt alleviation (construction mortgage of a multi-million dollar complex) and pastoral salaries (including salaried benefits). A small minority of money (according to the operating budget) was spent on programs designed to minister to children and families and adults. In my interaction with the business of the church I could not justify what was being spent on debt and salaries and what was not being allotted to more fruitful endeavors, investment into people. The operating budget led me to believe that the pastors’ salaries and building accommodations were most important to the mission of FBBC. In addition, I learned the culture of the staff at FBBC. The culture felt like a sort of clubhouse and provided one with many luxury accommodations: access to time share vacation properties, special use of church property, unclear policies between purchases that were personal and for church business (especially technology), muddy expectations between “work” and “time off,” little accountability regarding time on the job. Frequently, staff would not report, would go out to long lunches (myself included), would take frequent vacations, etc. Having been a teacher at Northstar Christian Academy (a ministry of FBBC) where long hours, hard work and little salary were the norm and then a full-time staffer at the church where I received effectively six weeks of paid vacation my first year (two weeks, originally were "unpaid," but I happened to arrive when this situation changed and those two weeks were "paid"). I had very little interaction with people, I had a core feeling that many things were not in balance.
Fifth, and personally very important, was my experience as a staffer and in the church community. For, on the surface, my experiences provided me with a sense that I was not truly welcome. Maybe I had a false self-complex, but in my experience there seemed to be a continual sense that I didn’t fit or didn’t belong and was not welcomed in sincerity by many (mostly leaders) in the church. This is not true one the whole, but it was felt true in many ways. Take for example, when I originally returned to FBBC from Texas, I became a teacher at Northstar. Ironically, having a theology degree, I was not asked to be a Bible teacher and knew that it was not welcome that I function as a Bible teacher. In another situation, a pastor, who has since resigned, “interviewed” me upon returning, which turned out to be somewhat of a hostile interaction where I was being interrogated for my beliefs. Of course, he was protecting his flock from a possible “wolf in sheep’s clothing.” I even sensed hesitancy in my own father’s voice in referring to me as a pastor. Further, I was not introduced to the congregation on a Sunday morning as a newly called pastor (a norm) and there were no discussions about ordination. Interestingly, the newly called senior pastor began referring to me as “Dallas” which was, on the surface, playful, but included hints of being a pejorative nickname. I received my master’s degree from Dallas Theological Seminary. I believe he felt threatened by this since he had no formal theological training outside of a non-professional Bible institute. Who knows.
The pain of leaving behind memories, relationships, connections, and social networks changes a person’s health, well-being, sense of self and belonging, and challenges security, feelings of satisfaction and future-confidence. Since my departure I have spent many moments contemplating the change, wondering if it could have been different. Alas, as they say, "it is what it is."