"The true ideal is not opposed to the real but lies in it; and blessed are the eyes that find it." –James Russell Lowell
Part of my recovery from an abusive church group meant learning to break the habit of looking for signs under every rock and twig. Or between every page of my Bible.
Just because my Bible fell open to the book of Revelation didn't mean God wanted me to start stockpiling food and ammo.
There was a difference, I learned, between exercising discernment and being superstitious. Praying for guidance and being flexible to the leading of the Holy Spirit was wisdom. Believing that God would leave me behind at the rapture because I forgot to say my bedtime prayers was superstition.
I had to learn how to temper high-flying ideology with down-to-earth common sense. I had to learn to accept reality for what it was instead of hyping it up into an uber-spiritual, all-encompassing, eternally significant lifestyle.
Of course, most abusive churches claim they are not promoting a lifestyle. They claim to be preaching God's plain Word.
But if that's the case, why does everyone LIVE the same way? I'm not talking about universal Christian virtues. I'm referring to all the extra stuff that gets labeled as "Biblical": no TV, no secular music, no alcohol, no dancing, no Christmas or Easter, a preoccupation with End Times prophecy. In other words, bandwagons of all shapes and sizes.
You can see some of these newer trends appearing among followers of Vision Forum: a nostalgic harkening back to "Regency-era" times, a glorification of tea-time and doilies, of gentleman callers and agrarian-based lifestyles, a wistful, revisionist view of history.
It's not that I have anything against these extras. Look, I think Jane Austen totally rocks! But I'm also glad I don't have to wear a corset every day.
The trouble arises when a particular cultural lifestyle is used as a litmus test for spirituality. In these groups, living according to these extra "Biblical principles"=lifestyle conformity. Anyone who lives otherwise (sends their children to public school? wears pants? sings in two-part harmony during worship?) is missing out on True Christianity.
When I left an abusive church, I thought I'd never have to grapple with bandwagon Christianity again. Boy, was I disappointed! It seemed like every Protestant church we visited had their own pet doctrines.
After we attended a church for awhile, we got to know what that pastor's particular soapbox was. No matter which passage he preached from, somehow his pet doctrine (always cloaked as "Biblical Principle!") made an appearance.
Adherents to Christian idealism often paint themselves as reformers.
But in my experience, it isn't about restoring True Christianity so
much as it was about promoting sectarian Christianity. Eventually, even the reformers make the same mistakes as everyone else. Except, since they're not under any authority structure besides their own–there's very little accountability.
I have grown so weary of Scripture being twisted to fit a set of preconceived ideals, to buttress ideological bandwagons and to inflict judgment upon women like myself who don't fit a particular mold. I'm so weary of having to pay lip service to theories–even beautiful theories–that simply don't work in the real world.
There was a time when I equated Christian living with cultural lifestyle. In fact, I cherished my cultural idealism. I petted it, coddled it, made little curly-que doodles around it and served it cucumber sandwiches.
Now I believe in ideals only inasmuch as they work. I reject ideals–even very lovely ones–that don't work.
It's a difficult, dicey process. I don't want to desecrate the holy with my newfound sense of realism. But since my default mode is to attach The Holy Label to everything, I'm not too worried about becoming a cynic. I tried cynicism and found it to be the ugly twin sister of superstition.
Which is to say, there were no answers in cynicism. At least, not lasting ones.
Strangely enough, by allowing myself the freedom of critical thought, my faith in God was positively strengthened. As I loosed Him from the prettily decorated box I'd kept Him in, He was free to be Who He was and I was free to be me.
The best part? I'm actually practicing pure religion instead of just talking about it. I'm loving in deed, not word. I'm meeting God in what I do, by the actual physical manifestation of my handiwork.
Actual work is never as glamorous as spouting zealous ideology. But for me, it's much more redemptive.
Or as Kahlil Gibran wrote: "Work is love made visible."
