Tuesday Nights, Applications, and Things...

(Originally Nov 2 2005)

This Tuesday at Times Square, yet another sermon sat in my lap, cooed and gigged, and called me Daddy begging for me to give it a good home. It was about placing ourselves under the authority of good leaders. It was one of those internal church sermons made to structure the church with some in-house rules. A sort of "This-Is-How-We-Do-It-Here" sermon. This sermon comes in many forms, depending on what church you're in.

Some churches deliver this sermon with a "Do-It-This-Way-Or-Your-A-Hellbound-Fake" flavor.

Others sprinkle more of a "Do-It-Our-Way-Because-The-Others-Are-SO-Mis-lead" seasoning on it.

This Tuesday night, TSC delivered it with a "We're-Really-Good-Guys-Who-Encourage-You-To-Do-What-God- Tells-You-To-Do" vibe. And while I sat and pondered how clever this approach was, and how it slipped under my radar, Pastor Conlon seemed to go off on a tangent--and it was the tangent that was tailor-made for me.

He reviewed how some folks might be sitting in the congregation having told themselves that they are there for the word of God, but as for the human leadership, "No thanks, I've had quite enough of THAT for one lifetime." The man, in other words, started addressing the abuse we may have had with other ministries and now we were not willing to submit ourselves again and take a chance of getting roasted again.

Dude. Sound familiar?

I have told you, haven't I, about my first pastor in New Jersey? About his obtuse way of handling my mother (and my own sensibilities) at her deathbed? But I didn't tell you about all the years I devoted to working close to him in hopes to be guided and trained as a man (not that I knew this then, being only a 16 yr old fatherless kid) and never once getting that education. I didn't get that education until I went to Missouri--some 11 years after I first darkened the door of that first church. You see, my first pastor was/is an unwitting megalomaniacal obsessive/complusive man. His thrust for righteousness came from a singular devotion to his (and his only) form of Christianity. He would talk the congregation into an hours-long, slack-eyed stupor trying to prove his point. He would demolish all competition, be it Satan, Catholics, or a friendly brother from his Bble School who dared to win the hearts of one too many of his congregation. If it wasn't the King James Version, or if the music wasn't Black choir gospel or Southern gospel, it was worldly--corrupt--a deceptive tool of the enemy. There were times I wrestled good-naturedly with him until he got to a place of acceptance for a bigger world, only to hear him slam back to narrow-minded intolerant fanatacism in the next hours-long sermon. My mother died around by the time I realized that I was getting nowhere with this man who I would have had as my father. So off to Missouri I went in search of new significance.

This past Tuesday night, Pastor Conlon coaxed my mind back from the "Nope, nu-uh, never again" Camp. He seemed to know, and said he had even experienced it himself, what it was like to submit to authority and find it was corrupt. What it felt like to distrust these "men of God" who wanted to be my authority. P. Conlon gave me a perfect out. He stated that himself and the whole staff of the TSC was subject to correction if any of us thought their way was wrong. He said that good leaders allow the people they are serving to challenge them on doctrine and any belief practice. He said that any religion that did not allow that, and made you feel like association with any other than themselves would lead you to Hell, was a CULT.

And there I sat saying to myself--"Well, I thought that was the case, but I never wanted to really admit it."

What kind of growing up have I done??

Sexually abused by a neighbor, emotionally abused by my mother, then caught up in a religious cult--buried under a bunch of shame and self-loathing as a result of the former three, then eager to work my way back to God's (and myself's) good graces by becoming a preacher--without realizing that the most important message in the very Book I wanted to preach out of was that NOTHING I COULD EVER DO, WHETHER IN MY BODY OR WITH MY LIFE, WOULD EARN OR LOSE GOD'S LOVE FOR ME.

And so here I type, a 41 year old man-child, getting his priorities straightened out by a divine hand because he got too bunched up by three or four worldfuls of CRAP to do it for himself.

And on this note, I found myself giving the TSC my resume and asking to be interviewed for a position in their counseling department. Yes, this was BEFORE I heard P. Conlon's sermon. I did it because the circumstance arose earlier this week. A "random" phone call alerted me to the fact that the counseling department in the Times Square Church has some gaps that could stand to be filled. (What are the odds that a Times Square parishoner would call MY number to find a Christian counselor, even though I'm listed?) Well I took it as an opportunity--I was given information and I acted on it. We'll see where it goes. But that sermon sure did ease my mind on the possibility of working with these people. Before I only saw a paycheck and the help I could give the parishoners, not to mention the freedom to do counseling within the worldview of Christianity. Now I see it as an opportunity to mend fences in my head. To learn how to trust ministers again, and even work with them in confidence.

I might even wind up going to see the first pastor again, seeing as that he's about nine miles up the road from me these days, and not have the grand showdown I'd been envisioning and dreading. In fact, I'm sure that I can forgive him, even though he doesn't know why I should. I think I can let go of the disappointment and move on.

And then today, I put in an application to the hospital that is within walking distance of this New Jersey house. According to all the releases I had to sign, it'll prolly be Christmas before I hear from them, but they had some relevant positions open (as I knew they would) and I'm feeling more energy these days to pursue them. (The slow drain of that car auction money has done wonders for my energy level, let me tell you).

And now back to Paragon City!