alexis in the city

My journey to seminary or why I waited seven years to go to grad school

Seven years ago when I was getting ready to graduate from undergrad, I would’ve sworn up and down that I would never go back to school (and in fact did on many occasions). I’d loved college but as with many things in my life before I was older and wiser, saw it as a means to an end; something to be gotten through - and enjoyed as much as possible - but finished quickly so I could move on to the next. I went through a full Bachelor’s degree in 2.5 years and eagerly moved on to my career. (It’s a little more complicated than that, but you can peruse other posts to get the full story :-) .

It didn’t take me long to realize that I’d never committed to anything for longer than 2.5 years, and my career would hardly be an exception. I spent about three years as a live TV news producer and have spent about three years running my own business as a social strategy consultant. And throughout nearly all of these years - with the exception, perhaps, of my early years in the news biz - I’ve been seeking what I want to be when I grown up.

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Patriotism, 9/11 and Guantanamo Bay

I get perhaps disproportionately defensive when people question two things about me that I hold sacred: my faith and my patriotism. I wrote this post last year in response to a comment I saw that people who wanted to close Guantanamo Bay prison had forgotten 9/11. The Gitmo debate has faded from the headlines but as we near the ninth anniversary of 9/11, I think the points still stand.

I do not wish this post to be a delineation of why I support closing Gitmo or how I feel about torture. I’ve already explained all that here and elsewhere. I do wish to point out how absurd and offensive this conclusion is in general, and to me specifically. In general, it shouldn’t take much common sense to determine that remembering and mourning 9/11 is not mutually exclusive with wanting to shut down a detainment camp.

Perhaps it shouldn’t, but it upsets me GREATLY that someone would infer that a political and/or humanitarian stance would remove any and all sympathy, empathy, pain and suffering in regards to that tragic day.

Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I take it personally. 9/11 hit close to home for me, in a sense. I don’t mean to put myself on the same par at all with 9/11 survivors or people who lost friends and family - I’m not at all trying to equate my experience with theirs. But it was none the less traumatic for me in a way it probably wasn’t for many people: my dad was deployed when we engaged in operation Iraqi freedom. He was sent to Saudi Arabia to help command the satellite/space aspects and operations of the war, so he wasn’t on the front lines and in terms of war it was probably the safest place he could be. But I was 18, away from family at college, and I was scared. We didn’t know when he was coming home and there was that frightening nagging thought that none of us wanted to articulate: “what if he’s NOT coming home.” I remember that thought. I remember scrounging through magazines and newspapers looking for references to my dad’s base and his operations. I remember getting emails from him - and hoping I would continue to get them.

I remember all that - even now my hands are shaky, my heart is beating fast - I will NEVER forget. To say that I ever could, simply because of a political position I’ve decided to hold, makes me angry. It reduces the fright and the memories to nothing, based simply on partisanship. It infuriates me that my dad’s - and my family’s - sacrifice and uncertainty during those times could be so easily written off.

To say that I have forgotten just because I support closing a prison is completely unfair - and completely inaccurate.

Quitting (un)Christianity

“Young ‘outsiders’ and Christians alike do not want a cheap, ordinary or insignificant life but their vision of present-day Christianity is just that - superficial, antagonistic, depressing. … [They] deserve better than the unChristian faith and won’t put up with anything less. And, unlike any previous generation, they will not give us time to get our act together. If we do not deal with unChristian faith, we will have missed our chance to bring spiritual awakening to a new generation.”

~Dave Kinnaman, President of Barna Institute and author of unChristian

unChristian (whose author, Dave Kinnaman, is an alum of my alma mater, Biola University) focuses primarily on the perceptions of “Christianity” from those outside the faith but also spends a fair amount of time in the first couple chapters discussing reactions from young people within The Church as well. The bottom line? These perceptions and reactions are pretty similar. Whether from inside or outside, it’s clear The Church is failing miserably in being relevant to the “conversation generation.”

This is no surprise. But what makes this book and its conclusions so powerful is that they’re based on three years of extensive study conducted by one of the most prestigious and respected research institutions. Based on these years of study, Kinnaman points to six major skepticisms and objections to Christianity in America in the 21st century that come from young people both within and outside of the church:

1. Hypocritical

2. Too focused on getting converts

3. Anti-homosexual

4. Sheltered

5. Too political

6. Judgmental

I could’ve written this list myself (and have, in many more words, over the course of my blogging career). If I - as a member of The Church (for better or worse) - have experienced pain and frustration from these above objections, how much more so would it affect someone outside of this religion? A lot of people, churches and faith communities are starting to understand what a big deal this is - but a lot aren’t, thinking that the answer to the preferences of Gen X / Gen Y / The Millenials et al is to buckle down, yell louder and point the finger harder.

While much of this blog is about my struggle with the Christianity of modern America, and while this book is written with data I could’ve given myself, I am by no means exempt from the issues. I think those who yell louder and point fingers in an effort to build a dam around the necessary evolution of faith are wrong. But I know I don’t always handle my opinions in the best way possible, often focusing on division and anger rather than unification and love.

There is, perhaps, nothing I want more than to be part of a faith that’s relevant and active in my community on a fundamental, actionable, day-to-day level. I hope the people within my religion who disagree with my implementation can at least see my motives. And I hope the people outside my religion can see beyond the unChristianity that often surrounds it.

(As for the book, HIGHLY recommended, especially if you’d like to crawl inside the head of someone who struggles with The Church.)