The Parade

I was raised in a caravan of a certain Christian tradition. Our nomadic theologians had ventured off from their comfortable homes to find God in a strange new land. Somewhere along the way, this pursuit had become more about things they found along the journey and building a bigger caravan than actually finding God. The journey drifted toward a different direction. Some split, sickened by that reality, and rejoined the adventure of exploring God's territory. Those that left were often demonized and the caravan became an organization bent on maintenance instead of mission.

Recently, I was invited to a young ministers' meeting for this organization I belong to. This certain denominational organization, like many others, has been slowly passing off the scene one elder at a time. It's been refusing to embrace change or to entertain questions from the younger ministers who are leaving by droves. Reactively, the older generations have begun to parade this caravan down a narrow road of denial that leads to an inevitable cliff ahead. Through the noisy show of the parade, a few alarmed elders have seen the approaching despair...so with legs that continued to dance to the music and voices that continued to sing the praises of this dying organization, they made their way to San Diego to call a meeting for us few remaining youngsters.

The meeting was held at the District Superintendent's Church, and only ministers 40 yrs. and under were allowed to attend. Dress was to be "Business Casual." There was a loose schedule. Food. Fun. A 10-minute presentation on 'Postmodernism.' Then an "open forum" that was labeled a 'safe haven' to discuss questions and concerns about the organization from within.

I was skeptical.

When I showed up, I realized I had forgotten that we were on SoCal Time...I was alone...in my business casual attire. That was a fun topic of conversation for me and the first 5 couples that arrived in suits & ties. After some awkward conversations about my 'Justin Timberlake' look (...skinny tie and stubbly wiskers...) we went downstairs and ate glorious Mexican food (which is one positive point about this organization: The food is always good!). The attempt at fellowship & games was a bit clunky, but attempting to have fun at a minister's meeting was a first & I don't think people knew how to respond. All-in-all, it started off much better than expected! It was somewhat disarming.

I was relaxed.

The 10-minute presentation on 'Postmodernism' was a decent primer on our generation from an older, outsider's perspective (It was fairly anemic and demonized a few traits that I believe are fully redeemable...but it was decent). The 2 elders present seemed to connect with it on a deep level. I was glad for them-it seemed like they were really trying to understand us. Then we made our way upstairs for the 'open discussion,' which I expected to include several minutes of preaching/teaching followed by 5-10 minutes of panel discussion. I did not expect any kind of organic format...

I was wrong.

One of the elders opened it up for about 2-3 minutes about the need for trust and vulnerability. Then they actually opened it up for questions...like a real honest-to-goodness round-table. I didn't really buy into it, but I played the game and opened up the meeting with a 'safe question' about the lack of true accountability within the organization: how it seems much of the rule book deals with how to give 'fallen ministers' the boot, but not how to restore their ministries or how to be proactive before immorality becomes something that's acted upon. This first question opened up the flood gates of dialogue. Questions our generation has been wrestling with started coming to the forefront...and not in a "we need the answer" way, but in an "organic, deep, spiritual-learning" kind of way. This was actually working...

I was re-imagining.

For the next 20-30 minutes, we discussed things like the obvious generation gap, the mistrust between those generations, the possibility of revisiting rule books and regulations. We began to dream. Hope. Re-engage our faith in the context of this dying organization (maybe we can resurrect it...maybe we can stop the parade and pull the caravan back onto the right road...). We felt safe. We opened up our fears and expressed them. A flame of expectation began to flicker.

I was appalled...

...Because, after 30 minutes, one of the elders had finally heard enough. He was the chief of the caravan. He stepped up to the mic with a heavy heart. In his way of thinking, he didn't see a group of honest young ministers opening up and drawing strength from one another's struggles; He saw confusion. He didn't see progress, he saw fear and regress. Where I finally saw a sense of direction, he saw an 'untoward generation.' He told us of his heavy heart...that we were imagining problems that didn't exist...we were making mountains out of mole-hills and 'shadow-boxing'...that every elder he knew, in fact, trusted the young ministers coming up in the ranks of the organization...they wanted to give us an equal voice (which was curious to me, because I felt he was shutting ours down). He actually belittled our opinions. He was standing right there in front of us, stomping out this newborn fire of hope. A cold, wet blanket fell on the room.

In his defense I think his leadership training just took over. I believe he saw a storm of confusion & felt he needed to step to the bow of the ship like a good captain and take control. The problem was, what he saw as a typhoon really seemed to me to be the last hope that many of us had in this organization. It wasn't confusion; it was expressed frustration from people who had suppressed dreams and ideals because those did not fit into the box of the religious subculture they found themselves bound to. It was a beautiful chance for bridging gaps and healing wounds. Instead it further spread generational gaps and left newly reopened wounds gaping.

I was gone.

I regrouped with my good friend at Starbucks where we processed the whole experience. I was not alone in my opinion. He felt betrayed, like he had taken a big chance opening up and was taken advantage of. It felt like there was a plan that had existed from the beginning to give us the illusion of a voice, so we would feel like we were being heard and would join in their parade. It seemed like they just wanted to act like they were listening so we would shut up and comply. I wished I had remained skeptical, then I wouldn't feel so shut-down, unimportant and hurt. I had really seen hope there for a few minutes...I had been genuinely ready to give this whole thing a shot. Oh well. They have their agendas. They have their bureaucratic responsibilities to attend to. They have their parade.

I am moving on.

Now I find myself looking for God along the mountain paths where the air is fresh and people still have a sense of wonder. I am running into people everyday who are hungry for an authentic experience with God, not a religious experience with man. I hold to the distinctives of the childhood scriptures that shaped my mind and fashioned my theology. I'm letting the Spirit guide me as I take this new birth message, that my grandfather bled for and my family has sacrificed for, along for the journey with me. I am seeking God alone. I'm looking for His approval. I'm happier than I've ever been on this road high in the mountains overlooking the distant parade below. It's lonelier now, but I see others coming this way. We're going to meet up on the path....it's going to be an incredible pilgrimage. I feel the anticipation in the air.