Redefining Heresy (Part 2): Augustine Sets the Standard

A quintessential pursuit of heresy occurred in the 4th and 5th century. Today those old battle lines are discussed and dissected from seminary pulpits. The heretic has few writings, not because he did not write, but because they were destroyed by his detractors. The hero on the other hand is still commonly quoted, and republished today. All we know of the heretic is his name, a little history, perhaps a few brief writings, and his effective defenses against the accusations.

His name is defamed as a great heretic in Christian history, but not because we know what he taught, but because of who accused him, and what they said about what he taught.

Augustine is remembered as the hero, and Pelagius the heretic, and the methods of the pursuit of a heretic has been outlined for us down through the ages on the basis if this story.

Pelagius came from Britain (perhaps from Wales) to Rome, and saw rampant immorality, and even a laxity of morality in the Roman church. He came as a moralist. He perceived the teachings of Augustine on the nature of sin and grace to be detrimental toward encouraging holiness. At some point in the interactions Augustine responded by accusing Pelagius of heresy, and with his influence, and that of others had Pelagius brought before councils on heresy charges. Over the years, two ecclesiastical synods, two popes, as many as thirty-two bishops and many influential Christians found nothing wrong with Pelagius' teachings.

There is evidence that many of the anti-pelagian writings of the church fathers quote Pelagius and make a variety of arguments against points which it is unlikely that Pelagius intended.

Jerome refers to Pelagius as "the huge bloated Alpine dog" who must be "battered with the club of the spirit."

Even after being exonerated many times, Augustine, Jerome, and others kept pursuing some final verdict of Heresy.

Was Pelagius a heretic, or simply a reformer who considered the teachings of the more influential Augustine to be detrimental to a practical life of holiness, and thereby was aggressively pursued unjustly? We can not be sure, but this we do know: He was not pursued on his lifestyle, because Augustine remarked on his piety. He could never really be clearly pinned down on teaching heresy, and that is why he was repeatedly exonerated.

Could it be that the accusations which fly today, often for misunderstanding, and exaggeration, and mixed with name calling are justified in the early church fathers, who potentially used similar fallacies of logic to name the heretics in their day?

We can not be sure, yet we still name the heretic by defining his beliefs through other's words, and we name the defender of the faith by listening to what he says about himself, and what his friends have to say about him. It seems to me that things have not changed, and they may not until disagreeing parties can learn to sit down with one another, and talk, and listen, and truly understand what each other are saying.

Who's the heretic? The one who teaches something misunderstood, or the one who accuses the teacher, maybe even falsely?

Aberrant Christianity is an issue of unethical behavior, as much as it is an issue of strange doctrine. One can not separate the two, yet the pursuit of Pelagius appears to do just that.

I have seen accusers get away with unethical behavior, and be rewarded for it. Is this the fruit of 2,000 years of heresy hunting? I should hope not.

Redefining Heresy (Part 1)

"For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from every lawless deed and purify for Himself His own special people, zealous for good works." (Titus 2:11-14)

A typical evangelical approach to orthodox teaching, and its antithesis - heresy, is a completely intellectual issue. A heretic is someone who believes, and teaches something different than the accepted orthodox positions.

Very early in the Christian Church this became the primary means of identifying heretics, and separating them from the church - thanks to such people as Augustine, who relentlessly pursued Pelagius - perhaps even to the death.

The writings of John have become sources for this position. John tells a house church in his second epistle to avoid inviting heretical teachers into the home. These heretical teachers rejected the teaching that Christ came "in the flesh."

Paul likewise warns the church about teachers bringing rules about keeping the law, and sporting a doctrine of salvation through obedience to the Mosaic covenant.

Yet this approach toward defining heretics is far too simplistic, and potentially detrimental to the life of the church. In the passage written to Titus by Paul we discover that the teaching concerning Jesus is a teaching which is connected to our behavior. It is tied to denying lusts, and ungodliness.

I have heard of people who were called into account for supposed false teaching, but when was the last time someone was called a heretic for something other than an issue of teaching falsely? If someone who denies that Jesus came in the flesh is a heretic, what is a Christian leader who lies, and destroys the ministries of other people for his own selfish gain? Is he not someone who is living out his "worldly lusts" and denying the "grace of God which brings salvation"? I would say yes, and I would also say that I know such people. I would say that I know Christian leaders who honor such people.

How did we get to the place where the guy with big church is the hero, even if he has harmed others to get there? How is it that he is not the heretic?

I am fan of sound teaching, but I find that I am becoming more of a fan of sound living. Those who teach mercy and mercilessly walk over others to get what they want, are heretics of the worse kind, and instead of being celebrated, ought to be rejected, and kicked out of leadership in the house of God.

Somewhere Else

Avebury - Phil by the Stone
Originally uploaded by philkwyman.

Have you ever just felt like being somewhere else? This shot of me at Avebury reminds of a somehwere else I rather be right now. I don't often feel that way, because I love where I live, but the old denominational group, just sent another lie via snail mail, and I'd rather be somewhere else.

"Why do the wicked prosper?" I ask myself.

Of course, Webb reminded me the other day when we got together, when these things happen I understand why "the heathen rage."

My real reason for making this post was I wanted to get this photo on my profile, but Blogger has this really stupid process to get it from your computer to your profile.

What the heck is up with that!?

Oh, Mighty Nazarene Atlas!

I read stories of my hero the Nazarene Heretic, and I look for reasons for His behavior. I question why He treated some people more harshly than others, and why He treated some with the gentleness typically shared between lovers.

I have seen Him berate respected religious leaders for lying, stealing, creating followers whose destiny was Hell, and being motivated by Satan himself. Yet He carefully, and lovingly delivered an adulteress from public humiliation, and the threat of the law's punishment. What makes a man behave in such a manner?

The Nazarene saw something we do not, and its weighty concern bore upon him like the mythic Atlas carrying the world upon his shoulders.

Religious men stood between God, and the people God loved. Could it be that we still do this today?

Oh, Mighty Nazarene Atlas! I kneel before Your wisdom, and tremble before Your anger.

Ministering Like Jesus - with the Help of Demons?!

I was speaking at a friend's church in the Seattle area - Saturday night and Sunday morning. Saturday night was a primer on Neo-Paganism in America, and a little bit about our story in Salem Massachusetts.

On Saturday Night I told the story of our Halloween Outreach, and the tents of ministering Christians who offer "Psalm Readings," Dream Interpretation, and counsel people who sometimes wait in line for up to an hour. I described the people who make up this wildly divergent group categorized as Neo-Pagans. The Wiccans, Witches, Druids, Shaman, and assorted Pagan groups were loosely defined, and the incredible urban myths which grew out of the 1980's with the fear mongering-created by the likes of Mike Warnke was challenged.

A number of the people sat on the edge of their seats, and were deeply interested in a subject relevant to their children, and their children's friends at school. Their own kids were perhaps the most captivated by the teaching.

We entered a time of discussion and questions. Some people had questions which helped them further define this group called Neo-Pagans. Others were thankful for the teaching, and described people they knew who fit this people group called Neo-Pagans.

From the back of the room, a couple people had been stirring, and they came forward with some accusing questions about my allegiance to Jesus. Soon one lady, who was new to the fellowship began to describe the evil spirit I brought into the room, and said that if the leadership did not reject me fully, and throw me out, she would leave the church.

I sat down and gave her the platform, and established a dialogue with her. Some people sided with me, and others were now not sure what to think. One man began to side with her, under the belief that doing a "Psalm Reading" was a kind of compromising syncretistic action which would lead other Christians astray.

The evening did not end with any resolution in respect to this woman's concern that I was demonized, and bringing evil spirits into the church. She did not dialogue with those of us who were willing to talk through the issues, instead her pontificating remained a condemnation of my spiritual state, with no evidence but a subjective discernment of evil spirits filling the room, and swarming like gnats on a hot summer day all around me.

The following morning I spoke again, and this time I gave a simple testimony of my salvation, followed by how that experience influenced by missiology (although I did not use the word missiology for sake of keeping it simple.) My new-found buddy Jim Henderson from Off the Map was there.

He had a sense of the previous evening's difficulty, and grinned graciously, and understandingly in the back of the room. After the service, the youth and their parents gathered around to tell me how much the teachings had meant to them.

Later that day I was leaving for the airport to come home, and a young man who was a friend of the Pastor's son came out to tell me that he had understood Jesus for the first time during my teaching on Neo-Paganism the night before. He now wanted to be a follower of this Jesus.

I'm not sure which part of this surprised me the most: the lady who assumed I had devil's with me when I came to the church, or the kid who found Jesus in a primer for Christians on the subject of Neo-Paganism.

Is this how Jesus felt? He did good, and was accused simultaneously of doing his work under the power and influence of devils. I would enjoy following in the footsteps of Jesus the Heretic, and working under the power of the same Spirit.

These are the ongoing stories of previous experiences from the last two years. As I prepare a proposal to put our story onto the printed page, your input is deeply appreciated.

My Favorite Heretic

heretic - n. a person who holds unorthodox opinions in any field (not merely religion)
recusant, nonconformist - someone who refuses to conform to established standards of conduct

or·tho·dox - adj. 1. Adhering to the accepted or traditional and established faith, especially in religion.

If you have not quickly guessed who my favorite heretic is even before I tell you, I will be surprised. The above quotes give clear indication of the life of the individual I respect most for his heretical ways. Human history has yet to to find a man or woman who would give their life so fully to teach concepts contrary to the established powers as this man did. Without concern for himself, he helped the broken, the suffering, the weak, and the young in spite of pressure to conform to the religious system of his time. When challenged by a hastily gathered court, trumped up with false charges, he refused to bow to conventional wisdom, and suffered a horrible death at the hands of corrupt religious powers.

He lived as a servant to humanity, and died an ignoble death as a heretic.

I generally capitalize not only his name as is standard for all names, but each noun and pronoun which refers to him. I have not done so to this point so you would have to wait, if you hadn't figured out who He was.

My favorite Heretic is the Nazarene.

I regularly read His life story to discover the people He came to serve. They were not the elite. They were not the rulers, nor the rich. They were not people of success, nor people of pedigree. He looked for the lost, and wore the servant's apron for the working class, and their children.

He was expected to serve the leadership, and the rulers of His day. That is generally the path to success, but He chose the path to sorrow and difficulty. His nose was not browned by being warmed at the back end of the powerful. When they were wrong, He stated so with the boldness normally reserved for judges speaking to criminals.

I have considered the people whom the Nazarene defended. They were not the churchgoing, nor were they considered the good citizens. They were the sinful, and the broken. They were people who were rejected by religion, and isolated by their circumstances from the rest of society.

Today, religious people often defend the church, and disassociate themselves from the broken, the strange, and the rebels. The Nazarene came for the these, spent time with the strange, and became a Rebel Who trained the next generation of rebels.

His interaction with the rich consisted of challenges of their allegiance to money's cruel, and powerful grip over their hearts. He spoke of the dangerous position of being rich, and the necessity of being willing to loose it all for the sake of living right.

He responded to the religious authorities with strong words of condemnation for their treatment of those they were supposed to be leading. He openly challenged them before the public - even on their own turf.

And so it was that my favorite Heretic ended up in a rigged trial, which condemned Him to that ignoble death.

I am convinced that He would be as much a Heretic today as He was then, and so I am not afraid to walk in His example.

I can embrace my inner heretic, because I have embraced my favorite Heretic

Embracing My Inner Heretic

Some time back I took an internet test. You've probably done some of those same worthless tests which tell you silly things like how much your life is worth, or rate your personality by Sesame Street Characters.

This test told which famous minister I was most like. It said that I was like Martin Luther. Now I am sure that its margin of error is about 78%, so I'm not banking on starting a reformation anytime soon, but he and I do share the same birthday, and he was famous for doing something on Halloween. Although his 95 theses nailed to the door at Wittenburg are historically a little more important than our large Halloween outreach. But perhaps we have more in common.

He was treated as a heretic.

Wow. We've got three things in common. I'm feeling a reformation coming on after all.

I've decided it is time to embrace my inner Martin Luther. Yes, deep inside of me I have a rebellious, anti-institutional, break free from the bondage of legalistic religion trouble maker. I have an inner heretic.

My inner heretic has decided that truth matters, and keeping up appearances is only as good as the paper you wipe it with. Faithfulness to friends matters, and faithfulness to a program, or an institution will be scraped off the bottom of my shoe before I enter the house. Serving people is a non-negotiable item, and making sure selfish leaders get what they want needs a bag when I take my dogs for a walk. My inner heretic believes that all people are equal, and those who think they are more important can watch their ideals swirl down the porcelain pot.

My inner heretic has decided to rise up and live life fully. No more fearfully hiding from the hard face of tradition, or squinting under the harsh, questioning light of convention. I will not be like everybody else simply to make some self-serving, brown-noser happy.

If you can't tell what I think of bowing to abusive religion by now, I'm not going to spell it out because I can't say it on prime time TV.

There were times when the Apostle Paul got mad, though I have a feeling that it might have been more often than was warranted. Yet, I am deeply impressed by his gutsy response to the Senior Apostle Peter. Paul stood up against him, when Peter refused to eat with the Gentiles while the Jews were around. Peter kept the legalistic conventions of the day, and by doing so perpetuated a false sense of the spiritual superiority of one group over another. Paul's inner heretic rose up, and let Peter have it publicly.

Paul embraced his inner heretic and rose up to meet the troubles of the day. He broke away from the expectations of his peers, and stood against the tide of popular opinion, and the slowly simmering corruption which comes from doing things just because that's the way it's always been done.

Jesus showed some red face too. The tables of the temple's outer court flew, and the turtle doves were squeaking and fluttering all about, as the sheep and goats bleated, and nervously scampered for places to hide in the flying coinage and billowing dust. At first the "money changers" as they were called, were surprised, but you know they got angry and filed formal complaints. Jesus' inner heretic could care less, because His Father's house had become a den of thieves through exhorbitant prices, and an unfair money exchange.

I know who the real heretics were. They were individuals who received the wrath of the angry followers of the Father in Heaven, but as is often the case, this world turns things upside down. Truth bearers, and those who go out of their way to make sure the path to God is cleared for others to navigate simply, get treated as the heretics. History wears the sooted face of the so-called heretics who have been burned by the traditionalists of their day - sometimes literally burned.

Today my path is relatively easy. I do not flee for my life to stand up for the truth as Luther did. Nor am I concerned about the rising faggot pile, and the stake to which the heretic is tied as Luther's predecessor John Huss, but like them I will embrace the rebel inside who looks like a heretic to the status quo if I must. I will embrace my inner heretic.

A Waldensian Adventure: Fleeing to Rennie's Hill

For Jeff and I the words hung low over our heads like a smoky night sky with the sounds of whistling shells, periodic bursts of light and bone shaking blasts. The tension wound tight in our chests, and we were expecting something to drop on us with destruction and death at any moment.

"I will be sending two District leaders to discuss your future in the Salem (attach denomination here) Church." That was the sentence in the e-mail we received which told us that our District Supervisor was going to attempt to shut me down, and have me removed from the church.

Our counsellor from the denomination who followed us through the whole event, called immediately after I forwarded the e-mail to him.

"Phil, whatever you are going to do, Do it now."

We made appeals to the necessary people, but it was Friday, and no one would get this info until Monday or Tuesday morning.

Over my twenty years in the denomination, I had heard stories of District Supervisors coming to churches on a Sunday and taking over the services. We were meeting in the newly leased outreach center on Sunday evenings, and wondered whether this District Supervisor, who had shown no evidence that a decent discussion could be held with him would attempt to pull off one of these hostile take-overs.

It was only two days until Sunday, and after 5 months of struggling, we weren't up for a battle.

We talked to the church council, and came up with a plan. We called every person in our little church. We e-mailed those who had an e-mail addresses. On Sunday evening at 6pm, when we met for services, we posted someone at the door, just in case an individual was missed in our contacts.

Meanwhile like fleeing Waldensians, we found a cave in the hills and meet there for church. In truth it was Rennie's house, but she does live on a hill. About 35 of us were packed into the two rooms which made our catacomb sanctuary. We were seated on floors, and laps, and standing in the hall.

My old friend from California, Steve Maddox was there with some of his troup who came for the trip. This was adventure at its best: a sense of danger, and a need to hide from a stronger enemy. Is this how the first-century church responded to persecution? Is this how the Chinese church lived? Were we walking the path of the persecuted Waldensians? Okay, maybe not, but we felt the sense of danger, and adventure that night.

We were being a bit dramatic, but still we faced a very real threat of being shut down as a church, and our people were up for the adventure.

It might not have been the mountains of Northern Italy. We might not have been meeting in a cave, but we ran and hid to save our little fellowship that day.

The District leadership never did show up that Sunday evening, but the adventure was worth the effort. We discovered that we were a real church without that fancy old bank building.

If you are following this blog, you will notice that here, and at Square No More I will be retelling tales of our adventures last year. I am currently compiling information for a book proposal, and so any input you can give as I put small vignettes of our story together would be appreciated.

Rev. Phil Wyman

I don't really like that title - Reverend. I suppose I don't appear terribly reverential to most people. My Father in law met me for the first time when I was first pastoring 20 years ago. After being afraid I would be some weirdo, he relaxed a little and said, "Well your just a regulah guy." I thought that was great compliment, but here I am needing to write the words Rev. Phil Wyman, because I discovered yesterday that people are plugging those words into a Google search to find me. Hi, if you just found me like that, here I am - the Rev. Phil Wyman. Some people call me Pastor Phil. You can call me Phil.

How Did I get it Wrong?!

Bobby presented a thought for consideration, "Perhaps you've miscalculated how Christians might misunderstand you?"

This was one of the last comments of the meeting. To the four of us who had been called in to give account of our supposed crimes against the orthodoxy of the faith, it seemed that Bobby's words were the only reasonable words of the morning.

For three hours we responded to questions, and dealt with accusations which alleged that we were somehow deficient in our doctrine, misguided in our passion to reach people who lived way outside the box we Christians call normal, and that we were dabbling in the occult. Forty-five minutes was dedicated to answering the question, "How can you be friends with Witches?" That question hardly seems to need an answer to someone who is following Jesus.

Apparently Bobby was right. We had miscalculated how Christians would misunderstand us.

The mayor didn't misunderstand us, and he was a Christian. The city committee members we had to work with each year didn't misunderstand us, and some of them were Christians. The hundreds of regular Christian volunteers who helped us perform our Halloween outreach over the last seven seasons didn't misunderstand us. The people in our little church didn't misunderstand us. But Bobby was correct Christian leaders did misunderstand us.

Thinking back, instances of misunderstanding come to mind.

The Short Silence

We were walking into the restaurant talking about the people of Salem, Massachusetts. This was a meeting with the District Supervisor for all the states from Ohio to Maine. I mentioned the religious affiliation of the people in the city. In the statistics Pagans came up. I said something about the "Pagans in Salem."

A short silence followed.

As we entered the doors, Tom said, "Phil, you might want to explain what you mean by Pagan. I am not sure they understand. They might think you are speaking ill of the people in the community"

It's true, I have to be reminded that Evangelical Christian leaders often do not know much about religion. They know about their own little sect of Christianity. They know about the Bible. They do not know about Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, Muslims, Hindus, Christian Science, the New Age, or Neo-Paganism. A Pagan is someone who lives a decadent lifestyle in rebellion to God in their personal dictionary. The term is derogatory.

I do not comprehend a religious leader not knowing about the other religions of the world. More specifically, I do not understand not knowing about the religious groups which are influential in our own communities. How do we respond to the person who comes with questions about religion?

Perhaps you have an interest in an alternative religion such as Neo-Paganism, and have been afraid to share it with your Christian friends. You might have a family member, a friend, or a co-worker who is experimenting with spirituality,and they are not open to discuss it with you for fear of you misunderstanding.

Pastors should be some of the first people in the community who are sought after for advice on pursuing spirituality. Unfortunately, we are often the last. In my city many people will visit the Tarot card reader first. Ever wonder why?

Those Pagans

Just a few weeks before the allegation filled meeting, I stood in front of the conference and invited the church leaders to come to our outreach in Salem. I quickly mentioned that we need to become sensitive to today's religious vocabulary, "Pagans" and "Heathen" which were once derogatory terms in Christian churches were now religious affiliations being adopted by thousands of people every day.

The main speaker had made a reference to the "pagans" in his community. He meant decadently living, God ignoring, selfish people, and the term was derogatory. Perhaps that was a bad career move on my part. Then again I am known for pushing the edges of convention.

This speaker was presented as a model for reaching a community. He was from Northern California. I know there are lots of Pagans in Northern California, and I mean those of the religious variety. This pastor did not realize that he had set the standard in front of a Pastors' conference for stripping people of their dignity by using their religious affiiation as a passing putdown.

I believe that our words, our prayers, our ideas, and our intellect all have power which God wants to use. God even wants to use Pastors of churches to help your community. If you've been offended by Christian leaders you may find that hard to believe. Me too occasionally, but I do believe that God can redeem anyone - even pastors like me.

So I guess its up for debate. What do you think? Did I get it wrong?

You can also visit me at Square No More where I blog about missional living, and rethinking our little Christian lives. ;-)

Read up on our full story at Next Wave E-zine.
See the Wall Street Journal Article

My Thoughts on Church Life for 2007

I wrote a response to Bill Dahl's questions about our hopes and fears for the church in 2007. Bill runs a website called "The Porpoise Diving Life." It's a quirky/cool site with lots of deep stuff, and yes that pun about "deep" was intentional, because that's what Bill is about - intentionally punning his way to a deeper life in Christ.

Can you guess what book he's punning on big time with the title of his website?

So anyway - leave my site right now, and go visit his. Do this so you can read my article on his website, and maybe get to know Bill and little too. So here's the article right HERE!

Thanks Bill.

In Honor of Harald Bredesen

Updated Jan. 6:

Memorial is planned for:
Saturday, February 3 at 11AM
Church on the Way
The King's Place, West Campus
14800 Sherman Way
Van Nuys, CA For more info follow at HARALDBREDESEN.COM


Some of my memories with Harald (updated once again on January 19th):


My last contact with Harald was a phone call just a few short months ago. The three of us: Steve Maddox, Harald and myself were on the phone. I had recently been through some tough times. False accusations from an influential minister were being accepted by those higher up in the denomination I served. Harald knew our small ministry, and respected it. He called to tell me that he had put in a good word for me. He described a message he left on the home phone of the leader of our denomination (a number which few people had access to). His words to the denominational President were gracious, yet at the same time strong. As he described his actions in my defense, he raised his voice, as he always did when got excited, and said, "I am so honored to come to your defense!"

Harald honored!? No I was honored I said, but he repeated his words as loudly as before, "I am so honored to defend you my brother!"

Of all things in which I will attempt to emulate Harald Bredesen this will be the most significant: He treated all men as princes. If you were a prince you were treated as a prince. If you were a pauper, you were treated like a prince as well. He appeared to honor no man over any other man, and to him even the lowliest were kings. I have known "important people," and none have been as noble as this man in this simple principle. He saw all people as deeply loved by God, and treated them with that respect. May God return this glory to his church.
___________

We invited Harald to come to Salem to be the main speaker for a conference we held called "Spirit Rising." During the day we were walking down the sidewalk together arm in arm - that is how Harald walked with you. In the middle of the conversation about our church, our city, our mayor, and our dreams for the ministry, Harald cried out with a loud voice- right there on the city street, "OH GOD!..." and preceeded to pray a beautiful prayer for us. Of course, those of you who knew Harald, know that you could not have a conversation with him without an interruption. It was always Harald interrupting God with praise and prayer.
___________

I began pastoring in 1985. The small church in Carlsbad, CA met in a park and recreation community center. I had never considered that someone of Harald's fame, with the busy schedule he carried would have time for a young upstart like me, but I thought that it couldn't hurt to ask if he could come a speak to our little group. He said yes. We were thrilled, and we learned one of those things about Harald during that service which we would see again over the years. Even if he told a dumb joke - everyone would laugh. You see Harald always laughed at his own jokes, and his funny laugh was enough to make a crowd laugh.
___________

Original Post in Honor of Harald Bredesen follows

I just received a call from Steve Maddox from Oasis Bridge in Oceanside, CA. Within the last hour Harald Bredesen passed away. You can read more about the situation here.

I met Harald for the first time, when I was helping run a drug and alcohol rehab program in Lake Wohlford, CA over 20 years ago. I was amazed at his gentle, yet bold demeanor, and his unbelievably childlike behavior. Over the years he has come in and out of our lives, and was one of our defenders during the time we were falsely accused. I was honored to know him personally.

I regularly refer to Harald as the greatest example I know of someone living in childlike simple faith. He was considered a primary leader in the charismatic movement. This man with a brilliant mind, and a simple faith sat with kings, presidents, and world leaders throughout his life.

He lived a full life, but nonetheless we have lost someone I consider a great saint today. Please pray for his family.

PRESS RELEASE:

Date: December 29, 2006

The Reverend Harald Bredesen, often called the father of the Charismatic Movement whose adherents now number in the hundreds of millions, died today at Palomar Hospital in Escondido, California. He died peacefully from injuries suffered in a fall on December 26. He was 88.

In his introduction to Harald’s book, Yes, Lord, entertainer Pat Boone wrote, "Abraham . . . Moses . . . Gideon . . . Elijah . . . I think I've known a man like these. His name is Harald Bredesen. Miracles trail him wherever he goes."

Pat Robertson called his ministry to world leaders “legendary.”

Bredesen was the founder of the Prince of Peace Prize, given to Egyptian President Anwar Sadat in 1980, Mother Teresa in 1989, posthumously to King Hussein of Jordan (with King Abdullah receiving in his father’s stead) in 1999, and to Billy Graham in 2004. Sadat called the occasion he received the award “the high point of my entire life, more important to me even than the Nobel Peace Prize. That was in the political arena. This was spiritual.”

A Lutheran minister, Bredesen became the first ordained clergyman from a mainline denomination to receive the Pentecostal experience of the Baptism in the Holy Spirit, openly tell of his experience, and keep his ordination and credentials in a mainline denomination. In a letter to the editor of Eternity Magazine, Harald Bredesen and Jean Stone Willans coined the term “Charismatic Renewal.”

In the late-1950s, he introduced Pat Robertson to the experience. Robertson went on to found the Christian Broadcasting Network where Harald was a founding board member. In Pat Robertson: A Personal, Political, and Religious Portrait, historian David Harrell wrote, “In the long run it was a chance encounter with Harald Bredesen that had the most far-reaching effect on the life and career of Pat Robertson.”

In his book, Reagan Inside/Out, Bob Slosser called Bredesen, “minister to world leaders.” In that role he touched the lives of many of the most influential figures of his time. A call to prayer that Harald wrote and proposed to his friend Anwar Sadat, was cabled by Sadat, Jimmy Carter and Menachem Begin to leaders around the world on the eve of the Camp David summit. According to pundits at the time, few summits began with so little going for them. Thirteen days later, President Carter announced the breakthrough by saying, “We began this summit with a call to prayer. The results have exceeded the expectations of any reasonable person. I am a Christian. Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’”

Fresh out of seminary, Bredesen went to work for the World Council of Churches as the Public Relations Secretary for the World Council of Christian Education. In that role he solicited and received the support of President Harry Truman, King George VI, Queen Wilhelmina, King Haakon, King Gustav V, King Christian X, Generalisimo Chiang Kai Shek, Henry Ford, Herbert Hoover, Mrs. Calvin Coolidge, and Harvey Firestone, Jr.

Despite his success, Harald felt something missing in his life and walk with God. In 1946, he went to a Pentecostal camp meeting where he received the baptism in the Holy Spirit.

He met and married Genevieve Corrick in 1954.

In 1957, he was called to pastor the historic First Reformed Church of Mount Vernon, New York and soon invited Robertson to join him as Assistant Pastor. Together with others who had received the Baptism in the Holy Spirit, Harald and Pat hosted Pentecostal style meetings in the old church during off hours. At one of those meetings, they felt the Lord wanted them to go public with their experiences.

The next day, Harald, Pat, and their friend, Dick Simmons, received an invitation to meet with Norman Vincent Peale’s wife, Ruth Stafford Peale, to discuss the topic with her. She went from that meeting to a board meeting at Guideposts Magazine where she spoke with the young writer, John Sherrill. His investigation led to his best seller, They Speak With Other Tongues. Harald introduced John to the young street preacher, David Wilkerson, who, with John, wrote The Cross and the Switchblade, one of the best selling books of all time. (Some sources place the number of copies in print at over fifty million.)

Father Francis McNutt and others credited these two books with sparking the Charismatic Renewal in the Catholic Church now estimated to number over 120 million in over 230 countries. Statistics on the number of Charismatic Protestants are difficult to find, but it is clearly one of the most important religious movements of the last half century.

In its report on the Charismatic movement on the campus at Yale, Time magazine called the students who received glossolalia (tongues), “GlossalYalies.” It went on to say, “They date their experience to two campus visits by the Reverent Harald Bredesen.” The Saturday Evening Post dubbed him “Charismatic envoy to the campuses.” Encyclopedia Britannica’s first article on the Charismatic movement featured a photograph of Harald.

Bredesen hosted the long running Christian Broadcasting Network television program, “Charisma.” He authored the books Yes, Lord and Need A Miracle?, the CD “Toolkit for Eternity: A Walk with Harald Bredesen,” and the video, “How to Receive the Baptism in the Holy Spirit.”

He is survived by his wife, Genevieve; his children, Dagni, Margaret, Christopher, and David; and five grandchildren.

Information regarding memorial services will be given later.

Nicked Last Night - In the Nick of Time

Faithless
Originally uploaded by bubba trout.

Lectio Divina scripture meditation happens every Thursday in our church. Jeff is usually our guide through the meditations. Last night was a smaller group than usual, but was one of the more remarkable nights recently.

Stef shared a personal story of God's deep and simple communication to her, which was life changing. It was such an impacting story that it caused the group to start the meditations about 40 minutes late, and to shorten our meditation time.

Jeff always reads out of The Message, so I can seldom remember the passages he reads. I do remember these words on the first short verse we considered, "He will help you in the nick of time." There was more to the passage, but that is the part I remember, because I considered those words, "in the nick of time."

When someone has had a couple years of serious trouble, it can be difficult to consider that God has come through in the nick of time.

I know that Stef's wonderful confession, and story of deliverance was a set up for bringing us all to a deeper point of openness. I did not see it coming toward me like it did.

I thought of our attempt to try and purchase a big infamous "black house" as an investment, only to discover that it had title problems at the last minute. We lost money on the attempted deal, and if ever I thought God might come through in the nick of time, I discovered I lost money and lots of wasted hard work instead. Where was God in the nick of time?

I thought of when our greyhound Annie was hit by a car ten feet in front of me while I was walking her. She died in the street while I knelt beside her. Where was God in the nick of time?

I spent well over six months defending my reputation, and our ministry against false accusations of heresy from a leader in our denomination. Time after time when I felt that God would vindicate us I discovered instead that I was ignored by those who had the authority to reverse the lies. In the end I was removed from our denomination after twenty years of service, and when I trusted God to speak to the leaders in the denomination, and vindicate our good name, I had to ask, "Where was God in the nick of time?"

When my son came down with a serious kidney disease, which still is life threatening, and is potentially demanding a kidney transplant for a 21 year old, I had to ask, "Where was God in the nick of time?"

When it was Halloween morning, and Forrest, one of our two newest greyhounds escaped the yard, because a friend left the gate open. I drove the nieghborhood trusting that my God would deliver him from death and injury on the road. I found him fifteen minutes later. He was hit by a car, and suffered sever injuries - losing one leg, nearly dying of liver failure from the trauma, and needing surgery on his remaining back leg. I asked, "Where was God in the nick of time."

I could only form my simple meditative prayer after five minutes considering this passage by saying, "Lord our family has suffered great difficulty in the last two years. I have felt as though you were not there in the nick of time. Please help to understand that it is still true that you come through in the nick of time."

Pastors probably aren't supposed to pray such confessions before their parishoners. Well at least not in the denomination I came from. But then again, I'm not like them anymore. I suppose I got out in the nick of time.

Me? a Martin Luther?

So I took this test, and the results tell me that I am most like Martin Luther in my Theology. I don't know about that. I think this test was skewed toward reformed theology, and Western white guys like myself, except I may not think completely like these Reformed Western White guys like myself. Anyway - Martin Luther and I - Cool!

We have some unique similarities. We were both born on November 10th, we both have been excommunicated for being heretics, and we both have done some big things on Halloween which got us trouble, (Although I think the Wittenburg Door deal was way bigger than anything I've done.)

I think that my favorite part of this is that Augustine scored so low on my chart. Woo-hoo!

So here are my test results:

You scored as Martin Luther. The daddy of the Reformation. You are opposed to any Catholic ideas of works-salvation and see the scriptures as being primarily authoritative. Martin Luther 93% Karl Barth 73% Anselm 67% John Calvin 60% Jürgen Moltmann 53% Charles Finney 53% Paul Tillich 53% Jonathan Edwards 47% Friedrich Schleiermacher 47% Augustine 33% Which theologian are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, and Up Again - Please?

In a two year season of many difficult downs, I am grateful for every little up. Is it personal deception to see positive things when so many problems are swirling around? Perhaps it is a something somebody has slipped into my morning Odwalla Juice. Or maybe it is a mental illness.

Whether it is healthy to be positive or not, I am thankful for experiencing little moments of happiness, and seeing little things that bring me joy.

Things that made me happy these last couple weeks.

Caroling tonight in Jeff, and Diane's neighborhood, and not being the only instrument playing. I was able to bring my mandolin, because there were two guitar players, and Carl on his acoustic Bass. Frank joined us. He's not part of our church, but he was a competant guitar player, and a ham - Yeah Frank!

Reading Matt Stone's Blog a couple weeks ago on Chaser's War on Television Evangelists. Now that was funny!

Our Thursday Evening Lectio Divina scripture meditation was fun for me. I usually get cerebral, but this week I only experienced joy. I meditated on some passage which I can only paritally remember, because Jeff uses The Message when he does his reading. I think it said something simple like, "He kept His hand on me." The thought made me happy, and I just repeated it to myself for five minutes. This was NOT a vain repetition. It had meaning.

My buddy Shah Afshar e-mailed, and I was happy to see his name come up on the screen.

I walked outside at 9:30 at night in my short sleeve shirt on December 15th, and I was quite comfortable. That's really weird for December in Salem, Massachusetts.

A group of us danced to some rippin' Bluegrass music from Laurel Grove on Friday Night, and a neighbor of ours was at the show. Adeel showed us all off. He is Muslim, and from the middle east, and he was spinning, and kickin' his heels up like a mad dancing cleric. He and I had a great talk, and I expect him back to the church sometime, but what made me happy was that he was kickin' up his mad cleric heels to a bluegrass jam.

Forrest gets happy if I am away for a little while, and return home. He wags that long tail connected to that little butt which has one less leg attached to it. Forrest makes me happy because he's a survivor in the highest degree. He's a happy lanky greyhound with just three legs, and a bad haircut which a doctor who does amputations gives. I can not express how happy that makes me. It is even worth the astronomical Vet bill.

So, those are some of my little happy things this month. I think that I am mad.

I am not a Garbage Can!

garbage cans
Originally uploaded by gojumeister.

No, I don't want to sit and talk. Not right now. Maybe not for quite awhile. Okay I know you feel like you need someone to listen to you, but I can not listen right now.

This is what I want to say, - but do I? No. Why? Because people will not accept that answer. I've tried it a couple times recently, and I have not had success - they seem to either forget an hour, or a day later, or they become frustrated as though their relief from stress is more important than mine. They find relief by talking to me. It doesn't matter that I find incredible stress in the same moment.

I am not usually like this, but the last few weeks have been drainers, and there have been a few conversations which includes someone dumping their personal struggles, or emotional tensions on me which feel just like that - like they are dumping it on me. I can't say I've had this sensation before. I don't like it. I feel as though I can't handle any more trash. I am not a garbage can. How is it I came to feel like a big smelly one?

I am sure I'll feel fine tomorrow, but it takes less garbage to fill to can these days. What garbage is in me which is taking up room I should have for others struggles? Maybe I have been a garbage can, and I haven't realized it all this time.

It's a bird. It's a plane! It's a frog. A Frog? No...

American heros are often come from behind, you were given no chance to make it type of characters. Well that used to be the case, but it seems that the romanticism of overcoming all odds to make it is being replaced by trash talking sports stars, cocky musicians, and mean spirited businessmen who like to fire people.

I suppose I am old fashioned in this respect. I still like the underdog, and I am hoping that underdogs still have a chance to make it in today's world.

My three-legged buddy Forrest is coming along just fine, and so it looks like we'll have a real superhero dog in the house.

I am sure that part of the process of moving from tragedy to triumph is believing that there is a God who likes underdogs too. Perhaps its time for some of us to start purchasing cool Underdog paraphenalia.

It's a Miracle! I Had a Good Time with a Christian Leader!

Bev and I had a good time with a Christian leader on Saturday. Wow. That was really a unique experience. Since over a year ago when we were tied to the stake and burned by leaders we thought were friends (maybe not close friends, but friends nonetheless) we have discovered that posturing for position, brown-nosing, backstabbing, superstition, fear, prejudice, and who knows how many other evil things lurk in the heart of Christian leadership.

Shut up! I know those evil things are found in me too. But you're not allowed to point that out. So let me get back to trashing other leaders.

I guess I have to admit that what it is I really have a distaste for is three things: 1) Christians leaders who act like Christians - know what I mean? Of course, we can be pretentious no matter what culture we take on. Check out a good example of this at Out of Fellowship.com. Am I the pretentious Mac guy, instead of the pretentious PC guy? 2) Christian leaders who are indeed brown-nosers attempting to climb the Christian corporate ladder. Yep, they are out there, and I've met them. and, 3) Narrow Christians who define their version of Christianity by a few doctrinal or ethical standards.

So back to the point. Bev and I met with John Paul and Diane Jackson on Saturday for lunch. They were real people. They did not use silly Christian lingo. They did not posture to be someone important (even though they kinda are), and they had a wonderfully open view of how God is touching people today.

It was an encouraging time for Bev and I - maybe healing. This was not the first Christian leader I've had a good time with in the last year, but the number of meetings with other Christians which have been encouraging have been substantially fewer than those which were encouraging.

So here's to the John Pauls: people like ,Steve, Steve, Jobey, Miriam, Scott, Ken, Jeff, and James.

There are piles more besides, but not enough of you live nearby.

Apathetic? Me?

I still have to keep a watch on Forrest, and so I spend more hours at home than ever before. I will probably have three more weeks of this dog nursing task during the days. This is quite frustrating, but I suppose it should give me opportunity to do some things I might not regularly get to.

Jeff and Ken want me to get a book together since it appears that I will need to hit the road soon. Yep, I can get to work on that. I already have so much material it ought to be easy to piece a book together.

I need to get my first trip out to Southern California organized. That should be fun to do, and motivating.

I have done some things to organize these blogs better. That was good. Right?

I find that motivation is difficult. It comes in spurts. Then it fades to black.

Is apathy a result of abuse? I know that stress can cause me to want to run, but this isn't running. I'm not going anywhere, or avoiding anything. I'm just at home doing the dog nursing thing, and trying to get things done which I can do from home.

Discovering what to do next is a tough task in itself. Some of this is easily recognizable as the result of being in new circumstances. I am in need of doing things I have never done before. Yet, some of this struggle comes from the last year of treachery. Could it be that the way we do church, and practice our leadership in Christianity today actually may increase the apathy we preach against?

Hey I Must Be Famous Now!

Well, I suppose infamous is really the better description, but hey John Smulo asked me to do an interview for his blog, and so you can find me being blogged about, and blogging on another site. Please check out John's cool blog, and put your two-cents in on a reply. Oh, and please reply here, and let me know you did so too. I get really happy when I know someone actually read my blog.

So go here to John's Blog;

John Talking about Phil Which makes Phil Feel Good about Himself.

Total Silence, Complete Dark

I like total silence. Early in the morning I like it best. No distant cars with their gently purring engines, and the swish of tires on the roadway. No hum of computers, or appliances singing through the house. No birds chirping, or voices whispering. Total silence.

To find this soundless universe I sometimes just cover my ears, but even here the sounds of my own breathing, occasionally the beating of my own heart, and the movement of my hands against the cartilage of my ears invade the noiseless universe; but these self generated sounds at least give the sense that I am alone.

I realize that evangelists and theologians have theorized that man's lonliness is one of the factors drawing the human heart towards God. This sense of lonliness in the universe is a cause for anxiety, and creates my deeper search for meaning I am told. Yet somehow I am drawn toward the silence. In a portion of every day I just want to be alone.

"Alone with God?" you ask.

No, just alone.

Perhaps this is a mild version of Job's regret that he was ever born. Maybe it is just my brief encounter with running away without having to go anywhere.

Avoidance is a major characteristic of my seasons of stress. I wonder how many people like me cover their ears just to hear the silence? If you do this go ahead and leave me a comment so that I will know that I am not alone in my little universe of loneness. Darn....there goes my theory that I really want to be totally alone.


I like complete dark too. Sometimes when my eyes are tired late at night, and bedroom still has enough light to give that gentle glow through my closed eyelids which tells me that the deep night has not come to its fullness, I cover my eyes with my hands. My eyes relax with relief in this lightless universe I create. No pinpoints of light coming through my fingers like the night stars. No barely perceptible glow like distant cities on the horizon. No deep grays, browns, or blues. I wait for the impressions of color upon my retina leaving their subtle watermark in my vision to fade away. Total dark.

Perhaps like silence, I've never met the complete dark. I visited the mighty Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, and while beneath the earth, the lights were turned off for a minute to experience complete darkness. I could not see my hands in front of my face. Was this really complete darkness, or is there something darker?

Christianity does not generally gravitate toward darkness. We compare light and darkness with truth and lies. We speak of the spirit of darkness, and the children of darkness, and contrast that to ourselves being the children of light. I realize that darkness is not a popular subject among Christian leaders through the ages. But I like the darkness.

You ask, "Are you drawing near to God in the thick darkness as Moses did?"

No, just plain darkness is what I am looking for.

Perhaps at some point I've just seen enough. Maybe this is my way of saying that I've had enough of searching for answers why, and receiving information which only deepens the mystery; and enough of seeing blessings which do not appear to match the depth of misery experienced in this world.

Perhaps this too is my brief encounter with running away at the end of the day. Do I have a gentle deathwish prodding me toward the dark and final sleep? Theologians and Psychologists say I have an innate fear of the dark sleep of death. Yet I love complete dark.

Avoidance fills my senses I suppose. I just like to be alone. Seeing no one smile. Seeing no one cry. Does anyone else cover their eyes to block out the gentle glow of light at night? Does anyone else like complete dark and search for it before sleep? If you like to be completely alone occasionally, leave a comment. Perhaps there is a twilight zone episode we can create together.

Manic Joys of Stressful Seasons

So we are now into our fourth week of watching Forrest 24 hours a day. He was hit by a car on Halloween morning, had to have a leg amputated, and had surgery on his other back leg. For the first week, his liver almost failed, and he was on his deathbed, then on the second week, he snapped out of it, and became his same old silly self.

After he came home, with the price tag of a new car, I have watched him for most of the 24 hours each day. He had to have a second surgery on his one back leg because the sutures didn't stay after the first day of recovery. So now he has a bigger cast, and it has a rounded bottom, which makes him shakey on it. Every time he goes out, we need to keep him on a sling to keep him from bouncing too hard on his back leg. So each time he stirs in the night, I am up to see how he is doing. Since Forrest has always stirred a lot at night - so do I.

Tonight April came to visit. April was the first person to help Forrest when he was hit by a car. Somehow he got up with his seriously mangled leg, and hopped to her. She was two cars behind the car which hit Forrest. She drives a trash truck, and stopped to help him. She held him, and used her hand to stop the bleeding until I arrived on the scene. She probably saved his life. In all the furious action to get Forrest to the Vet Hospital, we never actually met April, nor did we hear the story until tonight. Somehow she tracked him down at the Vet, and then found us, and wanted to come visit him.

In the midst of a series of stresses, and tragedies over the last year, meeting April seemed to bring joy to the house.

Of course, I question myself and wonder: Will the joy last for an evening, and dissipate quickly to the bland feeling which comes with discouragement? or will it prove to be one of those steps up toward normality?" (Perhaps I should have used the word normalcy, because normalcy wasn't a word until a President used it in a speech, and as we know normal doesn't exist.) Is this just the manic up of a bi-polar swing?

Over the last three weeks I have slept few hours each night working my doggy-nursing position. I am sure sleep deprivation, added to stress helps create a sense of having bi-polar disorder. Dog accidents, sickness in the family, financial stress, and naughty Christian leaders can help create stress which leads to sleep deprivation - we know here at 7 Upham Street.

I saw Elijah go from slow to happy yesterday as well. He was feeling terrible - which is common as his kidneys are failing, but he found out that it was primarily because his blood pressure was so low. That means that he had to stop taking one of his meds which is supposed to bring his blood pressure down. That was something like mildly good news, so he was happier when he came home from his Nephrologist visit. Up, down, up, down we go in this house lately.

I've never been bi-polar, although I've experienced the swings from mania to depression which mark its presence over this season of stress. I am hoping that mania, and depression are fading away into the stability of simple joy. April's visit may be a simple return to joy, but perhaps it is a mild manic swing. I'll let you know. But right now, we're smiling here at 7 Upham Street, and we are not even taking any happy meds.

Home Brew Gone Bad? gauging persecution, isolation, and a Martyr's Complex

This being my personal blog which releases the serial deconstructionist in me back upon myself it only seems right to consider whether my highbrow ideas about church life, and the state of Christianity are really just some sick Messiah Complex.

Okay my ideas about churchlife may not really be highbrow. They may actually be quite common, simple, and more like an home-brewed ale, than a expensive wine matched with the first course of a seven course meal, but that does not relieve me from the possiblility of acting all highbrow and know-it-all about my self-appointed important ideas.

Now I know a few people with Messiah Complexes. Most of them tend to have a Martyr Complex as well. Could it be that somewhere their good ideas were rejected, that they received a little abuse - perhaps even a lot of abuse? Could it be that good ideas ignored ferment, and build pressure until they bust out in a more aggressive expression? If left to ferment too long, is it possible for the expression to be more violent than it needs to be - self important, and perhaps over bitter like a bad home brew?

The Messiah Complex people I know are pastors, alcoholics, businessman, unemployed laborers, lawyers, high school dropouts, soccer moms, and society's disenfranchised. They do not fit a specific demographic, but they do all have ideas which carry some sense of urgency, and they view their ideas as under-utilized, and ignored.

Of course, I am not sure how one personally discovers whether their ideas are revolutionary or simply insane. I am not sure that Martin Luther felt any different about his ideas than Rasputin, DeTorquemada, or the countless mad monks who have filled the hills of history.

I do know this: I need to be careful about how I think about what I think. I am convinced that church as usual is not the way to go. Having been on the receiving end of abuse in denominational activity, I am convinced that something needs to change in the circles I had a part of over the last twenty years. I have seen the hypocrisy of the people who speak in the name of unity, and carry the small knife which gets buried deep in the back. I have seen Christian leaders nod in approval to ideas which I have presented, only to have them turn and treat those same ideas as heretical spewings.

Yet I have to ask myself, "What is the difference between good ideas gone bad, and truly revolutionary thinking?"

I am sure that I have had enough persecution, and general trouble, with a small degree of isolation (especially now while I help lil' ol' Forrest to recover) to allow the Martyr's Complex to ferment in my heart, and even develop to the Messiah Complex. Yet I am hopeful that in questioning this I am knocking myself back to a humble position, and avoiding thinking more of myself than I ought to. Perhaps this will allow the yeast of my thinking to controllably ferment.

Jesus was a Rebel, and so must I be. Yet his home-brew has lasted for centuries. It has not gone bitter. It still fills the heart with laughter and joy. I am not sure I have His recipe, or his skills in my batch.

Lord, help my revolutionary thoughts to brew a fine deep red ale, and not a nasty little home brew no one else can stomach.

Feeling Like Fumi: The Struggle of What to do with our Troubles

Is it sane to think that the troubles we go through may actually help someone somewhere sometime? I hope so. Paul says, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."

So perhaps feeling a bit like Fumi is okay. So click on the link, and watch this cool short animation.

Tension and Excitment: The Revolution Starts Now?

Today I received a letter from the old Denominational gang. We sent a letter asking for them to reevaluate their previous decisions, and look fairly at all the evidence - which they previously neglected to do. Their letter said in business like terms, 'we will review this request.'

Meanwhile back on the blogfarm, I have been listening to a song repeatedly, like a four year old. The song is "The Revolution Starts Now" by Steve Earle. In fact, I will pause for a moment to light up my iTunes, and play it while I type.

"buh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh...I was walking down the street, in the town where I was born..."

Okay I'm back - kind of.

"The revolution starts here..."

I was nervous to open the letter, because we've been through Hell in the last year. The Wall Street Journal did not have the space to even touch the depth of our tension, and struggle. But after reading the short, (terse perhaps?) response from a denominational VP, I began to get excited as the day progressed.

Pause again - I've been typing slowly, because I was singing along with Steve, and now like the four year old, I must restart the song. Tom Petty is cool, but not revolutionary enough for the moment.

"buh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh..."

"I was moving to the beat, that I never felt before..."

Okay, I'm back again.

Is this some weird form of mental disease, or was I born for revolutionary activity? Do I enjoy pain, or is my sense of adventure overheightened by a love for adrenaline? I should be mad, sad, or tense that this might start up again, but for some reason I am feeling excitement. What's up with that?.

"Yeah, the revolution starts now - in your own backyard, in your own home town...."

That's it. I can't type anymore, but I can replay the song a third time.


"buh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh...I was walking down the street, in the town where I was born. I was moving to the beat, that I never felt before. So I opened up my eyes, and I took a look around. I saw it written 'cross the sky, 'The Revolution starts now.'"

By the way - Forrest is home, and appears to be coming along as a three-legged Greyhound. What a tough little guy. He's my inspiration.

Tragedy and Twitching

My buddy Forrest got out of the gate on Halloween morning. Some one left it open, and I did not see that the gate was not latched. He got hit by a car on North Street, and now he is in doggy intensive care.

He had one leg amputated, and another had some surgery. After all this work, we are not sure he is going to make it. So we spend a few hours each day sitting with him in the vet clinic.

This is the second dog in as many years to be hit by a car. Annie was killed right in front of me a little over two years ago.

When Annie died on the street as I knelt in front of her, I could not sleep for three days. Each time my eyes shut, and I began to fade off, the scene suddenly replayed in my mental vision so clearly that it seemed real, and I startled suddenly awake. Sometimes still I remember that event and I will quickly blink, or perhaps even jerk mildly.

This must be a mild version of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or perhaps even Tourette Syndrome.

Forrest's recent tragedy has caused this response to increase a bit.

Bev and I have been crying periodically throughout the day, and are perhaps a little distant to our friends. I suppose that comes with the emotional, and financial stress of seasons like this.

I am twitching less over the treachery by my Christian brethren last year. I am sure that Suzanne Sataline and The Wall Street Journal Article about "Befriending Witches Still a Problem in Salem" was instrumental in helping that twitch, but now I have an old twitch renewed by a recent tragedy.

I hope that in Heaven there will be no more twitches, just as there will be no more tears.

Big Talk Time

Me think me should bring peace pipe.

Tonight we will sit down with someone, and talk about our story. It may turn out to be an important discussion for us. Bev and I, and then later Jeff and Diane (we're the troop which sat before the District Council last year - actually tomorrow it will be exactly one year) will discuss our story.

Hopefully this will be like sending a smoke signal, rather than us just blowing a lot of smoke. I'd prefer to communicate to people at a far distance, rather than sit and spew the remnants of our confusion. So a peace pipe might be in order.

The gentle communication of reconciliation had been our method throughout, and we expected other Christians Leaders to do the same. Apparently not all Christian Leaders act like Christians. Truth has been our goal, and apparently that too is a commodity of rare value in some Christian Leadership circles.

Well perhaps our goal will be realized soon, and truth will puff across the skies like the smoke signal on a distant hill.

A couple weeks ago four of us sat in my office, and considered tonight's discussion. The opinions differed on what to do until our buddy Jeff Gentry from Sinners and Saints made the comment, "The church has nothing to lose from the truth."

Me break out peace pipe and puff big tonight.

Today is My Anniversary!

I was married to Bev, April 2nd, 1983. So that's not the day I'm talking about. My birthday isn't for another month. So, that's not the day either.

Some dates are impressed upon one's brain indelibly. Those dates are either wonderful, or terrible. Sometimes we may need to refer to that date in documents so frequently, that it becomes etched upon the gray matter. October 12th was both terrible, and in need of being referred to in documents for months following.

This blog had its inception because of the events of October 12th, 2005.

Today I mentioned to someone that this was the anniversary day of the letter I received calling me to a hearing which eventually removed me from fellowship in a denomination over false, and exaggerated charges. The letter was a surprise, and was not sent to me alone, but to many others simultaneously, and without warning, or prior questioning. So, this day lives in personal infamy.

She said, "Oh Wow, the Anniversary. My sympathies."

I responded, "Sympathies or congratulations - we are still trying to decide which."

I'm not sure if that response was funny, or sad, or both. I wonder if there is something wrong with not knowing if something is funny, or sad? Is that some sign of arrested emotional development?

I Know This isn't Eustress

I read Hans Selye's classic book "The Stress of Life" some years ago, and was caught by the term "eustress" - no rocket science needed to define the term. Good-stress could be harmful in high doses Hans submitted, just as bad stress can.

Halloween has been a season of eustress for me each year. It is filled with tension, and surprises. It has more work involved with it than I should handle. This is true not only for myself, but the poor people who are a part of our church. They follow me faithfully into the night just beyond the Autumnal equinox.

We will run the 10th annual Halloween Children's Day. We will host about 50 people who come from far away to minister on the streets of Salem. We will sponsor about 40 hours of live outdoor music, and give away 8,000 cups of hot cocoa. People will be fed, dreams will be interpreted, movies will be shown, people will be blessed, and we will be over-worked.

These events have been a great joy, and a beautiful experience over the last 7 years.

This year I am not sure that I am feeling the eu- part of the stress. Somewhere in the last year the joy of serving was temporarily robbed, and is returning only slowly.

Is it possible that I am feeling what a person who seems to hate every moment of existence feels? Am I feeling the sensations of a permanent state of dissatisfaction? I have observed people who have acted this way, but I have not experienced permanent antagonism toward life myself - at least not until this year.

Even the things which I typically find joyous have been difficult to accomplish. They come with a sense of dread, weariness, or disinterest. Every now and then, the old joys surface, and with them come the excitement of the need for flexibility, and spontanaiety which is part of Halloween in Salem, MA. Although I am sure this season will deliver me from the doldrums, I am still struggling with loss of the eu- on this season's stress.

In two days it will be anniversary of the greatest treachery I have experienced from the hand of any leader in church life. I think to myself, "Get over it Wyman." This silly event shouldn't bother you so much, and yet I feel in my belly, and discover in my head that I carry the dissatisfaction with life which I have seen in others who somehow have been stricken with a similar affliction.

My affliction is light, but I write about it to chronicle a sickness which may well be spread through oppression, lies, and hypocrisy in people holding leadership in religious circles.

Oppressors steal eu- from seasons of stress, and perhaps from life itself.

So I wonder - whatever happened to Jesus' promise? You know, "My yoke is easy, my burden is light." Shouldn't that be the experience of serving God? It sounds as though He knew how to keep the eu- in His stress, and has a few lessons to teach me still.

Of Fingernails, Postage, and Short Tasks Made Long

Today I folded some letters, put them into their #10 envelopes, addressed the envelopes which I had believed would take far too long to find the addresses for, placed the 39¢ stamp in the top right-hand corner, and nervously scraped my fingernails with my thumbnail.

The letters had been written for quite some time. I had to hold on to them, because I was told it was wise to wait until a proper time. It is near, or at the proper time now.

Placing the postage on the letter was the strangest of moments in this activity. The postage made the act feel irretrievable. Of course, I could waste the handful of 39¢ little stickies, but that would not sit well with me. Consequently I scraped my fingernails with my thumbnail. It's an action I nervously perform. I take the thumbnail of one hand, and scrape the underneath side of the fingernails on the opposite hand as if I was cleaning them. Sometimes I guess I really am, but often I am just habitually acting, and often nervously so. The latter is what occured today.

I was writing to people who had been my source of struggle for almost a year, and doing so in a manner our church council had decided was good some months back. Yet I needed to wait until a certain time. That time is near, maybe now. So, the letters (except for just a few) are ready to pony up, and head west.

It took me far more time thinking of this action, than performing it. I dreaded hunting down addresses, and envisioned searching for days. It actually took about an hour.

What strange mental disease creates such distortion in my time anticipator? and why do postage stamps make me revert to a bad habit of fingernail scraping?

The tension of communicating with people who had been my source of stress for almost a year was the reason for this twisted emotional moment of time warp, and quirky habits.


...meanwhile my home team is choking in the Playoffs, but still you gotta love them Pads.

What Emotions Do I Still Have Left?

Darn. Four bad things happened today. Not disasters. Disasters happened some time ago. These were just small items.

The first was a simple mention by a friend that I looked drained, and without motivation. I was trying to figure out what he was talking about, and I wasn't quite sure if I became drained feeling because the suggestion magically overcame me, or if I just suddenly realized that I was drained feeling.

The second thing was that I went shopping after a day of working, but not feeling as though I actually accomplished anything. I did not shop for me, but I shopped with my "goode wife." (One must use such words in Salem during October.) We shopped for some needed items to make a few changes in our house - our house which has ever increasing numbers of people living in it. Currently five, soon to be six - and we have but one son, and he was moved out on his own until this last weekend. We are happy to have he and his "goode wife" in the house with us, but the dynamics are a changing around me. So our shopping was centered on making a few house changes. Now it wasn't the people in the house, but the fact that Linen's 'n' Things was followed up by Target that nearly killed me. I could have melted into the linoleum floors of Target by the time we were finished.

Then the hot water feed to the upstairs bathroom sink was leaking. Good thing my son found it leaking, and shut off the valves. Good thing again that my "goode wife" found that the valve was not quite turned tight enough, and it was leaking more. Bad thing that it happened, and that it had gone on for a good amount of the day. I am frustrated to think that we have a few old house problems - a new roof on the back room which leaks worse than before it was fixed, a recently fixed leak in the upstairs bathroom which may actually be unfixed, and now this leak today which I hope has not ruined the ceiling in the downstairs bathroom.

So problem #4 - me. I was really upset when questioned about how things are going in preparation for Children's Day, and other the Halloween stuff. I am way too far behind this year, for way too many reasons, but I just don't need to be reminded, and so it makes me upset, unless someone has a solution for me.

Was I so upset because I am already having so many things going wrong? or was I upset because this whole year has been filled with enough treachery to leave me tense, edgy and feeling beat down? Maybe it was because I feel so pressed on every side by the needs which are mounting around me. Actually I wonder if I was upset because I really don't have too many other emotions left in my system after two years of having my emotions jerked around so violently.

I am tired of writing about these feelings, but this blog is an experimental concept of monitoring how my emotions, and thoughts have been effected by the abusive treatment of church leadership. I suppose like the person walking through the grief cycle I must complete the task of journaling, and thinking through this. Could it be that many emotions which have been a part of my life previously are currently deadened, or at least numbed, and that anger is the only quick emotion to rise to the surface?

When other people contract colds or flues, I usually hold them off for a long period. Unfortunately, when I do succumb to the sickness, I often keep its symptoms longer than other people who contracted it earlier. Am I doing the same with my emotions as well? Will this last longer than it should, because I held it off for so long?

Darn. I hope not. Four bad things happened today, and they were really rather little things. Will four little things happen every day which will upset me like today? It's quite possible, but I know that if I can find some emotions other than anger, those four things won't seem so large.

Always Sleepy, Never Sleeping

Ever the insomniac am I.

It is now early in the AM. If I precede my nouns and pronouns with my verbs I will feel wise like Yoda, or better yet, I will feel as though the Welsh language has finally become the normalized pattern of thought in my brain. Like that would I.

Being so late/early I must get to the point. I am having a hard time sleeping. This is common coming into October, because I am so busy in October, and in September I am remembering things I should have done as far back as May. This year it is more like that than ever. Sleepy am I, but sleepless am I.

I have been more sleepless this year than any year in my life. I have also been sleepier than at any other time. Of course the two go together. I look forward to a time when there is no sleep. Most of the time I really don't enjoy sleeping. Maybe heaven is a sleepless place where people are never tired - like God Who never slumbers. Would be cool that.

Considering that this has been a sleepless year for me, I wonder how many Christians have lived sleeplessly due to the way they have been treated by Christian leaders. I wonder if I have done that to others often. It might be acceptable to create sleeplessness in someone, if they are awake because they are struggling with positive change, or excited about new possibilities in their lives, but if they are awake because of stress I have created - is bad that.

Christianity ought to be the place of rest. You know the "take my yoke upon you, and learn of me" kind of rest.

I guess this year the yoke was on me. Sorry - bad old pun was that. Is late now. Am tired now. Try sleep now will I. Am not wise yet. Write better when not tired will I.

When Pastors Hate Going to Church, and When Swords Heal

"I hate the church, but I love Jesus." I can not tell you how many times people have said these words to me. There are a few people in our church who feel that way. They have been coming for quite some time. I guess our church isn't a very good church, because they like us.

A friend of mine who works in a denominational headquarters said today that once he left (which he hopes is soon) he will not have anything to do with "the church" ever again, but he will do his thing with his wife and God, and a small group at their house.

I have met many pastors who have been burned by churches and denominations, and did not want to return to church life ever again. Some have overcome this struggle, and others have not. Today another friend is struggling with this same problem.

I have felt like this periodically in the last year. Sunday morning arrives. I get ready to "go to church." (I hate the phrase "go to church" - it reminds me that we don't know what church is yet.) Then I get a nervous feeling which I haven't felt in years. It has come upon me only when things have been at their worst in the church, but things in the church are great, and I love everything that is happening, and everyone in the church. So what's wrong?

I know what's wrong. This feeling is not connected to the local church itself, but to denomination I was once a part of. A little abuse can go a long way, and the emotions created by abuse have the half life of Bismuth.

I want to go - I don't want to go - I want to go - I don't want to go.... I'm as confused as a kindergartener getting on the bus for the first time.

Sunday night we had a party. It was mostly a surprise to me, and some of you reading this were there. Thanks. I think that I grew up a few grades, and I will not be getting on the bus for the first time anymore.

I was given a sword on Sunday night - a big sword. Big swords are filled with testosterone, and now I feel like a man, not like the little kindergartener - at least for now.

I'll carry my sword to church next Sunday, and let you know how I feel then.

A Man Named Phil?

Rose Wolf has been bringing me books. Rose has a Doctorate in Fantasy Literature, and is a walking encyclopedia of memorized poetry, and literature knowledge. She calls herself a Wiccan-Christian, and believes that the old ways point to Jesus.

When I mention something I am interested in, Rose finds wonderful used books at great prices, and gives them to me. I may have to call the library we want to build in The Vault at our church the Rose Wolf Library if this keeps up.

I mentioned that I was blogging about insanity, and a variety of stress related disorders because I noticed the similarities of my responses to a year of heavy stress to psychological disorders of various kinds. So she brought me this book called, "A Man Named Dave." I just finished "A Man Named Dave."

Throughout the book, Dave Pelzer the writer of a trilogy of books about his life of abuse as a child, and his eventual redemption speaks of feeling unworthy around other people. He knew that when his mother severely abused him it was not his fault, but he still could not look people in the eyes due to a deep sense of unworthiness.

This weekend, a friend from my former denomination called. He was in Salem, and happened at the time of his call to be standing in front of our church meeting location. It was extremely uncomfortable for me to talk to this guy. He does not yet even know about the heinous manner in which we were falsely accused by our "superiors" (Man! is that word a sick misnomer or what!?), and that we are no longer in the same denomination. So, he talked on as though things were like they always had been, and I fumbled to find something to say.

Why do I feel ashamed when my situation was caused by someone above me ("above me?" is that another poor way of describing authority?), and we had done our best to rectify things in a graceful and Biblical manner? I realized I was behaving like Dave. Does this happen to all people who live through abusive situations?

I in no way received the damaging treatment Dave did, but we did live through Hell brought on by someone who acted like the Devil, and now I am the one hanging my head. What's up with that?!

I suppose it is a result of abuse. Just when I think I am over it all, I find another way in which I have been affected by our experiences. I realize that this is a lesson not just for me, but for the the whole church, and so from this experience which relates to "A Man Named Dave" I find there is a man named Phil, and his experiences teach me that abusive church leadership leads to Christians who live with shame, and that shame may not belong to them but to the abusive leaders themselves.

I Want to Sit on a Curb and I Want a Pet Chicken

A curb in front of 7/11 would be fine.

A curb doesn't have an address. It doesn't have a mortgage. If I park myself far enough away from a public phone booth, no one can call with their demands, or questions. As long as I have enough change for an occasional Diet Raspberry Snapple, and a bag of Crunchy Cheetos I'll be fine. I can get some hot cocoa in the winter, or move to a curb in Palm Springs.

Some people become workaholics when they are stressed. I don't have that problem - well actually - let me rephrase that: I don't have that blessing. I would rather check out, and find a place with no expectations, and no responsibilities.

A curb is a great place to go.

When my son was young, I used to tell him that when he turned 18 we would set him up for life. I would get him an extra large felt pen, and a large piece of cardboard. Then I would take him to the grocery store and get him a shopping cart. All he would have to do is get himself a pet chicken, and he would be set for life.

Back in Oceanside, there was a man with a shopping cart full of all his belongings, and the man had a pet chicken which sat on the handle bars of the shopping cart as he pushed it down the street. Elijah and I thought the man with the pet chicken was cool. I think he had it made. His only cares were his shopping cart, and his pet chicken, but if I were the pet chicken man, I would scale back, get rid of my stuff in the shopping cart, and keep my pet chicken.

I understand how people choose to live outdoors - well maybe not here in New England, but back in California I understand it. No cares, no responsibilities - just a strange socially inept freedom.

I have occasional moments of lapsed living. I am not sure what to do next, choices can be hard to make, and taking action on little issues can take more effort than it seems they are worth. Over the last year the sessions of lapsed living have increased. Could it be that stress strips many people of personal impetus, and drive? Could it be that some of the people sitting on the curbs have given up their mortgages for the free life? I wonder if some of those people left the church for the curb.

I know that I won't check out and take up residence without an address, but I have moments in the day when I really want to sit on a curb, and I really want a pet chicken.

Justice versus Vengeance versus Nobility

Oh the horrible constraints of holiness! How is it that even things which are good and correct, can be convuluted by the human heart into harmful actions?

I wonder to myself this morning about finalizing an issue of justice. To do what I have been preparing has the potential of protecting other pastors from being abused in the future, but also would cause the abusive actions of a sick leader (who did me great wrong) to be opened up to a larger audience of his peers, and the leadership over him. Of course, this action would carry a sense of vindication for myself, but I must ask myself - would this action be taken for my personal satisfaction, and sense of vengeance, or is it for the benefit of Christianity, and its need for health?

The answer is not simple, because both purposes would be fulfilled in one action. So the question is one of personal health versus greater church health. Is it nobler to overlook this serious sin in the leadership of the church, and believe that God will do His work of justice, while I keep my heart protected from the desire of getting vengeance; or is it nobler to speak up, understanding that judgment is suppose to begin in the house of God, and that I will need to work on dissecting my own heart from the vengefulness which it sometimes tends toward?

I realize that "letting go and letting God" is the common expression some might apply to this issue, but how many others before have said that same thing, and how many good people after me might be abused in similar or worse manner than we have been. There is no doubt that the church has been negligent to judge an abusive leader, who has lied and harmed others for his own ego. To remain silent is to hinder justice. To speak up is to potentially give in to my darker passions, and risk the recompense of sowing and reaping - those who rejoice in judgment will receive its rewards after all.

Of course, in all this consideration, I must also realize that the church which has been so negligent until now, may simply bury its head, and consider continued negligence to be the safer path. They could choose to ignore the sins in their own camp, and that also leads to another thought - by taking action could I set myself up for negative emotions to be strung out longer than they need to be strung out?

How is it that right things can be made so twisted and difficult by the human heart? I at least comfort myself in the fact that I ask my heart these questions. To act without pondering these deeper issues would only evidence a darker heart, and a complete lack of nobility.