Hello friends,
I have good news, bad news, and some fantastic news!
First, the good news: I have been invited to bring my blog, Leaving Salem, to beliefnet.com. If you are not familiar, beliefnet.com is an interfaith website that has become a spiritual resource not only for millions of people, but a source of information for everyone from researchers to US News and World Report, Good Morning America, and Time magazine. Beliefnet.com says, “Our mission is to help people find and walk a spiritual path that will bring comfort, hope, clarity, strength, and happiness. Whether you’re exploring your own faith or other spiritual traditions, we provide you inspiring devotional tools, access to the best spiritual teachers and clergy in the world, thought-provoking commentary, and a supportive community. Beliefnet is the largest spiritual web site. We are independent and not affiliated with any spiritual organization or movement. Our only agenda is to help you meet your spiritual needs.” This is a wonderful new home for my blog and very good news indeed.
Now the bad news: The current blog that I maintain will go offline. So, if you are a subscriber to my WordPress automatic updates or RSS feed, those will soon disappear. The blog address www.leavingsalem.wordpress.com/ will also go offline. Sorry for the inconvenience this may cause in the short term. Also, those of you who follow my blog closely will see some “repeats” in the blog postings. This is because I will be incorporating all past archives into the new blog.
Last, the fantastic news: Beliefnet.com sees about 3 million new visitors to its site each month and maintains a newsletter list of tens of million of people. This is infinitely more exposure than I could have dreamed of on my own, and hopefully, a few of these people will find their way to the Leaving Salem blog. Book mark this page today, and visit often: http://blog.beliefnet.com/leavingsalem/, you should see new content on that page by next week.
Thanks for reading and please follow me to beliefnet.com!
Ronnie
This is the transcript of an interview conducted by Jeremy Sample from Smyth and Helwys Publishers (Summer 2011):
Jeremy: How would you describe your calling and mission as a writer and as a Christian?
Ronnie: In a word, I would describe it as catalytic. Think about striking a match: With a little push and a little friction, there is a spark. Will it lead to a fire? Maybe. Maybe not. But in the right environment, that little spark can ignite a roaring blaze. As a writer-preacher-follower of Jesus, all I want to do is shower a few sparks here and there, creating space and place for people to hear and draw closer to Christ. If I haven’t accomplished that – being a catalyst for Christ-centered change – then I feel my writing and living aren’t all they could or should be.
Jeremy: Why did you write the book Leaving Religion, Following Jesus? What were you hoping to communicate to readers?
Ronnie: I don’t know how I could not have written this book. It is, in many ways, the diary of my own spiritual journey. No, it’s not a biography or a memoir (it follows a portion of the Gospel of Luke), but ultimately, I found religion to be more of an obstacle in knowing God than a help. I don’t say that to be critical of the church, but to say that Christ must be the focus and center of our faith, eclipsing everything else, even our religious structures and constructs.
I hope that through this book those who maybe find themselves outside the established church will be encouraged to cling to faith in Christ, even though their faith in church institutions may be shattered. And to those within the church, I hope we would read this book and take a serious look at how we “do” church. Much of Christianity is more concerned with protecting its position and power than caring for people. As such, it has little credibility. We must be quick to accept that even something we label “Christian,” if it is not consistent with the words and ways of Christ, should be discarded.
Jeremy: Does Leaving Religion, Following Jesus relate in any way to your new book, The Jesus Tribe? If so, how?
Ronnie: Native tribes of North America, particularly the Cherokee, used to build fish traps in the rivers and streams. This was a triangle built out of stacked stone. When the water was high, fish would swim into it, and when the water receded the fish would be trapped. The family could then wade out to their trap and snag a meal whenever they needed it. It was a natural storage tank for fresh food. I use this same approach when writing. If an idea or concept really strikes me, I make a note and put it in my journal or mental fish trap, knowing I will come back to it later for a fresh idea.
It was while writing the chapter entitled “Whose Side is God On?” in Leaving Religion that The Jesus Tribe was first conceived. In that chapter I say that Jesus offered his people an alternative way to live in the land of the Empire. The Jesus Tribe, using the Sermon on the Mount, explores and expands upon that alternative way of life. I’m glad I stuck that idea away in the fish trap.
Jeremy: You’ve recently completed The Jesus Tribe. Can you tell us a little about the book? What interested you about this project?
Ronnie: This is the question I get the most these days – What is this Jesus Tribe book all about? – And describing it is a bit like trying to paint the wind. The concept is simple enough; it is a book that explores Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, but that Sermon, only three little chapters, is a lot to get your mind and life around! My premise is that these words and ways of Jesus form the alternative counter culture for his followers, and the metaphor I use, calling on my own Cherokee ancestors, is of course, the tribe.
A growing number of Jesus followers in North America have this splinter in their minds that tells them there is something suspicious about attaching a national flag – any national flag – to the cross. Good! We should be suspicious! Because the church’s identity is not bound to our nation. The church is a unique, called-out people who live as aliens and strangers in a world that is no longer our home. So, this book is about the inherent tension of being a follower of Jesus while living within one of the world’s most powerful Empires.
I think there is a two-fold question that every marginalized/tribal people group has had to wrestle with: How do we sustain our distinctive way of life, and to what extent do we adapt to the culture around us? There are a few possible answers: 1) We can conform and simply become a part of the Empire. 2) We can fight; wage holy cultural war, or 3) We can concede and just give up. All of these are dead ends. The way of life is the way of Jesus, crystalized so well in the Sermon on the Mount.
Jeremy: What is your hope for how The Jesus Tribe might impact readers?
Ronnie: Well, let’s return to the idea of writer as catalyst. This book will definitely cause a few sparks, and I don’t expect everyone to agree with my conclusions. In fact, I expect some of my “God-and-Country” friends to all but disown me. But if this book can wake a few readers to the fact that there is no such thing as an “American Christian” (there are, however, Christians who happen to reside in America), that our dependence upon and attachment to the Empire’s power is extremely dangerous, and that the way of Jesus graciously resists “how things really work” in the world, then the effort will be worth it.
My intent is not to polarize. It is to raise questions in the reader’s head and heart. Some of these questions I won’t be able to sufficiently answer with this book – maybe no one can answer them. But my Cherokee ancestors would say the right answer is not as important as raising the right questions. That is my hope.
Jeremy: How would you describe your writing style?
Ronnie: Most of those who review my books describe me as a story-teller. I like that description, actually. Being raised in the Appalachian south, story-telling is as much a part of me as my name – it’s inescapable. I just hope I can use it – along with all my metaphors, tales, and examples – to point toward the grace and truth of Christ.
Think of it like this: Have you ever tried to get your dog to look at something? You point at what it is you want him to see: A bird, a stick you have thrown, or a toy of some kind. What does the dog always look at? The end of your finger. The best stories are those that do more than draw attention to the story-teller’s finger. The best stories actually enable the listener to see and hear something “other,” something “out there,” that he or she can explore.
Jeremy: You recently made the decision to focus more on your writing. Can you talk about the difficulties and hopes behind this decision?
Ronnie: It is both terrifying and exhilarating. I have come across the assumption that once you write a book you are “set.” Maybe if you are Max Lucado, but the majority of authors couldn’t live a month off their annual book sales much less retire from public life. I also direct a non-profit that seeks to be a catalyst (there’s that word again) in the world of faith, assisting the planting and growth of non-traditional communities of faith, and I hope combined with my writing that will be as engaging and promising at it appears to be.
Jeremy: You now have a syndicated newspaper/internet column. Where can readers find it?
Ronnie: It’s a column called “Keeping the Faith,” and is one of the great surprises of my life. It started out as a devotional in my local newspaper, and now it is in more than 50 outlets in North America with a circulation of more than a million people. The Detroit News is my flagship paper, which makes me smile. How does a hillbilly kid from the Appalachians get a reading in the Motor City? God has a sense of humor.
Otherwise, it can be read in papers across the South, the Midwest, and California. One unique thing about the column is that I give it away. There’s no charge for newspapers that carry it. I believe that issues of faith – and good ideas and thoughts about faith – should not be treated as commodities. If as Christians we believe we have the greatest message in the world, we ought not treat it as merchandise.
Jeremy: Outside of your ministry and job, how do you enjoy spending time?
Ronnie: Raising three young boys, my wife and I find ourselves on a ball field a fair amount of the time. Soccer and football primarily, but there is also a little basketball, tennis, and wrestling thrown in as well. It’s busy, but we love it. My wife and I also like to hike, read, and cycle. We are getting ready for a charity Century Ride right now – yes, that’s a hundred miles on bicycle in one day.
Jeremy: What would readers be surprised to know about you?
Ronnie: You saved the toughest question for last! Actually, for the last few years I played guitar and sang for a band called “Sawmill Gravy and the Biscuits.” Seriously, I’m not making that up. We did a combination of blues, gospel, jazz, and folk music – and the occasional 80’s cover song. It was more fun than you can imagine.
What if it were possible for us to travel back in time some hundred or so years? What if we could do that, and upon meeting our not so distant ancestors, we said to them, “We are here to reveal the future! In the coming century you will enjoy incredible technological advancement: Personal computers, mobile phones, and air conditioning. Everyone will have gasoline powered automobiles. Commercial airlines will carry people all over the world. There will be automated machines that will wash and dry your clothes.
“Antibiotics will be given in mass doses and cures will be developed for many of the diseases you now fear. Life expectancy will grow to almost eight decades. Video communication devises will allow you to have conversations with people thousands of miles away with only the invisible air ways – no wires required. We will split atoms and hold the power of the sun in the palm of our hand. A rocket ship will take people to the moon. Food will be readily available. Travel will be easy. Machines will sit on sidewalks that seamlessly allow you to access money from the bank.” On and on we could go and they might believe that Utopia was well on its way.
Of course we would have to give them the bad news: “These same technologies will bring the ability to produce mustard gas, anthrax, and nuclear weapons. We will destroy whole cities with the drop of a single bomb. Modern automation will enable the genocide of millions. People will live with the constant threat of biological, technological, and nuclear holocaust, at the hands of the world’s governments, as well as from the ideology of radicalized individuals. Hundreds of millions will starve to death because of economic oppression and the permanent mal-distribution of the available food in the world. One hundred million will die in the great famines of the century. Twenty-five million will be killed by motor vehicles. War will kill another 150 million, and government repression about 100 million more. And the damage to God’s good earth? It will be cataclysmic and incalculable: Atomic fallout, contaminated drinking water, the eradication of wilderness, the destruction of the Gulf of Mexico.” Our forbearers might decide that we can keep our future technologies and the dangers that accompany them.
Philosopher Ray Kurzweil believes we humans have “about even chances” of surviving ourselves and the technologies we create and depend upon. But Kurzweil quickly adds the caveat that he has “always been accused of being an optimist.” In the practice of my faith, I am an optimist. The biblical word is “hope.” I believe that God is re-creating the world. I believe that God longs to replace human arrogance, once again with human stewardship. I believe that the path of the current world, even with all its failures, still leads to the lost city of Zion, as what was once perfect, but is now fallen, will be made perfect again.
And I believe that hope compels us to put on our work gloves. God has called people of faith to participate in his re-creation of the world. We throw ourselves into the fray of this fractured world, because we must, because we care, and because we believe God isn’t finished with this world yet – not by a long shot. He is making it new, making everything right, but he has chosen to do this through people. This then, is our hope: That the end of humanity is not extinction, but redemption; that we can learn from the past and are not doomed to repeat it; that we can live up to a divine-ordered stewardship, and not human-generated egotism and greed; that we will come to understand that technological ability, does not always equal moral and ethical sanction.
My grandmother lived to see much of the technological advancement and destruction of the last century. She had a saying that would counsel well we who live in the twenty-first century. She would often say to me, “Just because you can do something, that doesn’t mean you should.” Amen.
In recent days I have been traipsing through the country doing a little speaking and book tour, and I have met some wonderful people along the way. Their kindness and generosity rivals the Southern hospitality to which I am accustomed. And speaking of such hospitality, I was welcomed into a Southern congregation not long ago by the strangest message on the little placard in front of their church. It read: “Ronnie McBrayer: One Night Revival.” When I saw this, I could not stop from laughing.
In the South a “revival” is at least two very different things. It is a spiritual awakening, a holy renewal of sorts where those who have wandered from the straight and narrow return to the fold. It is also a church event, a scheduled series of meetings; or in my case, a single meeting. So a “revival” is something deeply meaningful and intangible that the people pray for, and it is also a traditional ceremony placed on the congregational calendar. And whether or not the two different meanings of this word cross paths is always up for debate.
What is not debatable are the images and old feelings (some nostalgic, some repulsive) that the word “revival” stirs in my own mind. For me, the word conjures up memories of hot August nights inside clapboard churches (and on an occasion or two, it was under a tent with sawdust under our feet) with hot air blowing through the windows and fiery preaching overflowing from the pulpit. It was a week-long gathering when the farmers, mill workers, and house wives of my community crammed their families into the pews to sing rousing gospel songs, to hear the pleadings, exhortations, and condemnations of the best visiting evangelist the church could secure, and for all of us to have our annual time of repentance whether we needed it or not.
The “revival” was always followed by spirited reports of how many had rededicated their lives to the Lord’s service, how many had entered “full-time ministry,” and how many had been converted. As soon as possible these dear, newly saved souls were taken down to the river to be baptized and confirm their deliverance. To see my name attached to the word “revival” brought all this flooding back and it was just too big of a giggle to pass up. See, I was not laughing at the church or the person who put those words on the sign. Their intentions were noble and good. I was laughing over the fact that it looked like I was the one who could singlehandedly inspire a “revival,” and that I could do so in a single night.
If anyone follows Christ, turns their life around, or chooses to enter the waters of baptism, God I hope it’s not because of anything I have done. The last thing I want to do is strong-arm or otherwise manipulate a spiritual decision out of someone. I saw and experienced enough of that in those scheduled meetings of my youth. “Revivals” they were not. All I want to do is give people the space and opportunity to hear God speak to them, not me. Write a book, give a talk, preach a sermon, show up on time at a scheduled meeting: I can do these with varying degrees of success. But produce “revival?” This is beyond mine or any other human being’s ability. “Revival” is done in no man’s name, for it is God’s work and completed in his time.
I am an imposter. And so are you. We play-act our way through life building massive façades to conceal our true identities. The reason we hide this way is because we are afraid that others will not accept us as we really are. Who can blame us? Who among us has not felt the sting of rejection or the crushing shame of being out of step with our peers? We learn very early in life – we are programmed by the society around us – to earn the approval of others. To go without this approval is like going without air to breathe. So we will do almost anything to be accepted and embraced by others, even if this means giving up who we really are, even if we have to sacrifice our self.
As an example, I have two children who will enter Middle School in the coming academic year. This is a colossal adjustment for all parties involved: Parents, educators, and of course, the children. Gone are the days of walking single file in line. Gone is so much of the structure and safety of the elementary years. And gone is the simplicity and happy-go-lucky manners of childhood. Those were left behind at the former school. See, it used to be that my boys didn’t care if their hair was brushed in the morning, if their shirts or socks matched, or if they had brushed their teeth or showered in the last eighteen days. Now, while I am very pleased with their radically improved hygiene, their motivation for this change is obvious.
They want to fit in. They want to be accepted by the jocks, stars, girls, and opinion leaders in the grand world of Middle School. Thus, no hair is out of place, style is suddenly important, showering has become a religious ritual, and “What will my friends think” has become the most critical question for them because they simply cannot let their little hearts be broken with rejection. Not all this is bad. It’s good to belong to a group and to have friends (and it’s good to brush and shower regularly). But I certainly do not want my children to live lives in which they are excruciatingly sensitive to public opinion, or for them to give away who they are to gain these things.
Now, I’d like to tell my children that it gets easier after the seventh grade, but it doesn’t always. As adults we hide behind our careers, the plaques and diplomas that hang on our wall, our status, and our money. These are fig leaves we learn to wear to fool others, and some of us never learn to be the true selves God made us to be. Fig leaves, of course, are nothing new. After plucking that beautiful piece of fruit from the forbidden tree, our primordial ancestors became aware of who they were; their failure and their sin. Adam and Even slunk into the woods snatching fig leaves as they went, and the task of hiding from God and from others began in earnest.
It is in our blood, our very chromosomes, to hide who we are. Somewhere in the human psyche we have accepted as fact this idea that others will not love the true person buried deep behind our multifaceted defenses. And we believe this about God as well: Even though he made us, he will not accept or love us. But that is a lie. In Romans 8, maybe the greatest single piece of Christian literature outside the Gospels, the Apostle Paul asks this rhetorical question: “Can anything ever separate us from the love of God?” And then he offers all these possible answers: Death, angels, demons, worries, fears. Hell itself?
But then Paul comes to this conclusion: “No, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” So quit hiding in the woods weaving fig leaf underwear. If God accepts you as you are, it really doesn’t matter what others think.
I have been guilty at times of misleading the congregations to which I have spoken. Truth be told, every man or woman who has ever preached a sermon or led a church has been guilty of the same. None of us are perfect, not even “the clergy;” maybe, especially the clergy. We all have blind spots and myopic presuppositions, so “rightly dividing the word of truth,” as the old Apostle put it, is not as easy as it appears.
My mistake, one of many, is that I told the people listening to me to “take Jesus out to the world.” This isn’t completely inaccurate. In a real sense, when followers of Jesus enter their communities they do so as conduits and instruments of the risen Christ. But this does not mean that Christians “own” God or that he is not already at work out in the world. To think that God or Jesus is the exclusive property of our particular church or that he is held tightly by our often mistaken interpretations isn’t good doctrine; it’s arrogance. Bono, that musician-poet-theologian-activist said, “Stop asking God to bless what you’re doing. Get involved in what God is doing – because it is already blessed.” See, God is already “out there, somewhere.” We don’t show up with him like a pizza delivery man. We can only point others to where he is. And usually, he is in the poor, downtrodden, the weak and the broken.
Will Campbell, that old Mississippi Baptist preacher, preached a sermon once critiquing the “invitation” as it is given in most revivalistic churches. He said, “Those of us who are acquainted with such invitations know that at the end of a sermon, the preacher invites people who want to commit their lives to Christ to come down the aisle to indicate that desire. I hope that someday there will be an evangelistic service in which, when the preacher gives the invitation and people start coming down the aisle, he yells back at them, ‘Don’t come down this aisle! Go to Jesus! Don’t come to me! Go to Jesus!’
“Upon that declaration, the people who were coming down the aisle turn around and exit the auditorium and get in their cars and drive away. He then yells at the rest of the congregation, ‘Why are you hanging around here? Why don’t you go to Jesus too? Why don’t you all go to Jesus?’ The people rise en masse and quickly leave the church, and soon the parking lot is empty. What I imagine is that about a half hour later the telephone at the police station starts ringing off the hook, and the voice at the other end says, ‘We’re down here at the old-folks home and there’s some crazy people at the door yelling that they want to come in and visit Jesus, and I keep telling them Jesus isn’t in here! All we have in here is a bunch of old ladies.’ But they keep saying, ‘But we want to visit Jesus! We want to visit Jesus!’
“The next call is from the warden down at the prison. He’s saying, ‘Send some cops down here! There’s a bunch of nuts at the gate and they’re yelling and screaming, “Let us in there! We want to visit Jesus! We want to visit Jesus!” I keep telling them that all we have in this place are murderers, rapists and thieves. But they keep yelling, ‘Let us in! We want to visit Jesus!’ No sooner does the cop hang up the phone than it rings again. This time it’s the superintendent of the mental hospital calling for help. He’s complaining that there are a bunch of weird people outside begging to be let in. They too want to see Jesus! The superintendent says, ‘I keep telling them that Jesus isn’t here. All we have here are a bunch of patients, but they keep yelling at us ‘we want to see Jesus!’”
God, through his son Jesus, is already out there. Let’s join him in the work he is already doing.
Hello faithful readers!
The McBrayers are moving this week to the piney hills of Georgia. So quit reading and come help us unload the truck. See you soon.
Ronnie
