Douglass Blvd Christian Church

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n open and affirming community where faith is questioned and formed, as relationships are made and upheld. 

Judgmentalism: The New Heresy

By Derek Penwell

Judgmentalism.  It's one of the things Christians do best according to those outside the church. 

Unfortunately for the church, emerging generations find any kind of judgmentalism off-putting. Consequently, they tend to seek the broadest possible parameters for what previous generations would call orthodoxy.

Now, let me just say that some of what passes for non-judgmentalism is simply an unspoken social contract in which I promise to keep my nose out of your business if you agree to keep your nose out of mine. I want to be clear that I’m not suggesting Christians should approach faith and morality as a laissez-faire proposition—in which the church, to avoid appearing judgmental, agrees to keep its mouth shut about important matters.

What I am suggesting, however, is that no matter how the church feels about being labeled judgmental, it would benefit mainline churches to think carefully about the way they come across.

Growing up as a religious conservative (an Evangelical, I would have said) I took it as an article of faith that salvation was like an obstacle course. Once you began to move toward the goal, you couldn’t go back, and every step was a potential hazard, threatening to disqualify you from finishing.

I was convinced that having the right beliefs about God was of equal importance with doing the right thing. In fact, having the wrong belief might be even more problematic than doing something wrong.

If you screwed up and said “Dammit!” because you bent your dad’s driver trying to hit rocks in the back yard, you could always repent and ask forgiveness.

Wrong belief, on the other hand, assumed a kind of intentionality, a willfulness that was much more difficult to recover from. You couldn’t accidentally believe in evolution or that the Bible might contain some mistakes in it.

Additionally, I believed that among the barriers Christians must negotiate on the obstacle course of salvation the need to “save” other people was a high priority:

If you observe a toddler wandering into the middle of a busy intersection, you have a responsibility to try to protect the child from being hit by a bus. Looking the other way is sin of omission. In the same way, if you see someone boarding the express train to perdition, you have a responsibility to help jerk them back onto the platform. Not to do so is to have saddled yourself with the responsibility for someone else’s damnation. You get enough of those lost souls in your column and the sheer weight of them might just drag you down, too.

Now, I’m willing to admit that my description of my childhood beliefs doesn’t necessarily represent all of Evangelical Christianity. However, they were my beliefs, and they are often the same things I hear people describe as “what Christians believe.” It’s important to name the reality that “Evangelical Christianity” has largely become a placeholder for “Christianity” in our culture.

That Christianity has become known by many people more for its beliefs than for what it actually does is problematic for the church in an emerging world.  Part of the way I read the common charge against the church as “judgmental” has to do with the conviction on the part of emerging generations that Christians tend to believe more than they actually live.

That fact, turned back upon the individual is hypocrisy   (another post) —that is, “I believe this, but I don’t think that means I actually have to make it a part of my life.” 

Turned outward, however, that conviction about believing more than you’re willing to live, often expresses itself as judgmentalism—that is, “I believe this (and I’m right); and therefore, I’m holding you responsible for living up to my expectations.”

Hint: The combination of hypocrisy and judgmentalism is deadly for the church, since it communicates an inordinately high opinion of oneself and one’s abilities to determine what’s right—an opinion of oneself that isn’t mapped onto reality, and therefore, need not be taken seriously by the individual.

At the heart of the criticism of judgmentalism lies an accusation that Christians feel themselves superior.  In other words, when people look at the church what they see is a collection of overweening know-it-alls who assume that everyone is breathlessly awaiting a word about how to improve themselves.  Any deviation from “Christian expectations,” these observers believe, cannot but be met with moralizing opprobrium from those who “know the mind of God.”  Christians, on this reading, have nothing better to do than to think up rules for everybody else to follow—then set about in earnest being exceedingly disappointed in everyone else when the moral revival doesn’t take shape.

“That’s not fair.  I think people ought to live right, but I’m not the judgmental person you so sarcastically describe.”

In the absence of information to the contrary, I’m perfectly willing to concede that that’s not a fair description of you.  I don’t even know you, after all.  That’s not the point, though.  The people who believe you’re judgmental, probably don’t know you either.  As far as they’re concerned, if you’re a Christian, they already know as much as they need to know about you. 

Among emerging generations, “Christian” is metonymous with “judgmental.”  That is to say, for many people the sentence, “Derek is a Christian,” is a shorthand way of communicating that “Derek is judgmental,” since “Christian” is merely a placeholder for “judgmental.”  Whether it’s true or not, the perception is, for my purposes, what matters.

Why is it the perception that matters?  Because, as a very wise man once told me: “The difference between reality and perception is that reality changes.”  If you want perception to change, you must work not only on the reality, but also on the perception. 

Not only must the church adopt a positive understanding that it is called to be something for the world not just believe something about the world, but it must do so in a way that communicates its own humility.

After all, in our culture judgmentalism is the new heresy. 

And for Christians used to occupying the role of heresy hunters, being the target of the new hunters of heresy is going to be extraordinarily uncomfortable.

We're Christians, and technically we don't believe in karma . . . but, dang!

Throw Open the Doors (John 20:19-31)

Having shalom be the first word uttered to the disciples in the locked room puts a name to the kind of reign God established on Easter.

Shalom foresees a world in which violence is no longer a reality, to be sure. But what's more shalom offers a vision of a world in which just systems ensure that everyone has enough—enough food, enough to care for their families—where all people, have access to the goodness of God’s blessings; in other words, a world in which the need for violence has been obviated.


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How Will They Know about Jesus? (Acts 10:34-43)

Rev. Derek Penwell

Rev. Derek Penwell

We talk a lot around here about how the faithfulness of just of few people can change the world. Most of the time it can sound like high blown rhetoric from a bunch of misty-eyed idealists. But what if it’s not?

What if there’s a whole world out there just waiting to see a glimpse of the world they hear Jesus talking about? What if part of what Easter means is Jesus raised to life in us for the whole world to see? The way you and I live our lives—full of peace and justice and love—may just be the only way they ever have of truly knowing about Jesus.


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Sustaining the Weary (Isaiah 50:4-9a)

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Tradition is remembering and experiencing a living history. It’s the way we enter and become a part of a vast commonwealth of pilgrims—past and present who’ve gone before us.

It’s becoming fellow travelers with the millions of those who’ve chosen to try to follow Jesus, and who’ve decided against the promptings of the world and—perhaps even their better judgment—to live by faith.

It’s becoming a part of a community that promises to sustain us with stories and poetry and words when we’re too weary anymore even to shake our heads.


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A New Thing (Isaiah 43:16-21)

Rev. Derek Penwell

Rev. Derek Penwell

God isn’t saying that the past isn’t important. Quite to the contrary, what God is saying is that the only way to honor the past is to believe that God is moving with us into the future. If the church says that God can’t reenact the miracles of the past again in the present, the church believes in a different God from the one who worked in the lives of our forebears in the faith.

So the question is not, will God do a new thing among us, but rather, when God does what God has promised, will we have eyes capable of seeing it, minds capable of comprehending it, hearts capable of embracing it? Do we have a big enough imagination to dream the dreams God dreams?


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Bad Parenting (Luke 15:1-3, 11-32)

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And if we’re ever going to be like the parent who waits for us, our job isn’t deciding who should be on the guest list. Our job is popping champagne corks when another one comes home.

And even more than that, we’ve got to figure out how stop looking out the window waiting for them to find their way home. Instead, we need to go out into the street and find them while they’re 'still a long way off.' And we need to run to them, and offer an embrace … before they ever promise to get their acts together and start being responsible—like we’re pretty sure we already are.


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Why Can't God Just Do Us All a Favor and Ask My Advice? (Isaiah 55:1-9)

Derek and his son, Dominic.

Derek and his son, Dominic.

No, God, throwing parties is nice—we like parties—you just have to be more selective about who you invite. If you need any help with the guest list, let us know. In fact, why not just do us all a favor and ask my advice? It’d make things so much easier.

But God’s not having it. God throws open the doors and says, 'Y’all come! And all means all.' The only requirement is that you’re hungry and thirsty. All that can exclude you is insisting that there’s some place you’d rather be.

There it is. God puts out a spread, and people stay away in droves because they want to control the menu, they want a line-item veto on the guest list. I mean, let's be honest, everybody knows you can’t just invite every knucklehead with a pulse and opposable thumbs! Lord have mercy, you start doing that and pretty soon you’re gonna have all kinds of undesirables knocking on the door wanting to be let in.


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You who were far off (Ephesians 2:11-22)

Derek and his son, Dominic

Derek and his son, Dominic

When I can finally see into the eyes of the stranger, when I can see people from close at hand, rather than from afar, I can begin to see the contours of the face of God.

Because in the face of God I see one who prefers to tear down walls, rather than maintain them, in the God who calls to us from near at hand, rather than keeping us far off.

In the face of God I can see one who is not satisfied with the gap that separates us, the distance that keeps us suspicious of and hostile toward one another—but who seeks to reconcile us, to stand among us, to bring us near enough to see one another's faces.


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What Does a Desperate World Need? (Luke 4:1-13)

Congregations are just as prone to hunger, just as prone to believe that if they’re going to survive they’re going to have to take the easy fruit, the quick bread that’s in front of them, rather than trust that God will offer a way forward.

So, congregations tend to be reactive. We’re anxious. We need to change. Just tell us who to be and we’ll bend over backwards to accommodate.

But what if God’s got bigger plans than can be pictured in our limited imaginations?

What if Jesus is counting on us to trust that God’s new age will be unveiled in us … those who seek justice, those committed to welcoming the stranger, those who sow peace in a world devouring itself from a hunger that no amount of bread, no amount of power, no amount of spectacle can satisfy?


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Since We Have Such a Hope (2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2)

Derek and his son, Dominic.

Derek and his son, Dominic.

The reign of God is first a decidedly earthbound affair. It’s not primarily about getting the rituals all correct, or about managing institutions, or about figuring out a new set of laws carved in new stone tablets to follow, but about unambiguously unglamorous things like doing justice, practicing mercy, and walking humbly with God.

It’s about feeding the hungry, visiting the prisoner, giving voice to the oppressed.

It’s about embracing the refugee, the foreigner, and those who’ve been turned away because they’re not “like us.”

It’s about unmasking the hypocrisy of power structures that allow the wealthy and powerful to keep the poor and powerless under heel.

It’s about choosing peace over violence, about doing the hard work of forgiving the enemy.


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The Perils of Going Home (Luke 4:21-30)

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Going home and opening the doors has its dangers. You never know who just might wander in and make themselves comfortable at the table.

Indeed, it may be more dangerous when the people sitting around the table look up and see who’ve let in. That can cause a big stink.

Just ask Jesus. Open the doors too wide and you might just get done to death.


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The Spirit of the Lord (Luke 4:14-21)

Derek and Dominic. 

Derek and Dominic. 

Jesus stood up in the company of a handful of the faithful and said a few words . . . words that suggest that the world is about to change. And if the poor, the captive, the blind, and the oppressed are to get a taste of 'the year of the Lord’s favor,' it will be in large part because those who claim to follow Jesus aren’t preoccupied either with being dismissed as hypocrites and dolts or only with saving their own souls; it will require those who claim to take Jesus seriously to help create the space in which the reign of God may unfold.


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Greater Things than These (John 2:1-11)

And what about us? What about those of us who claim to follow Jesus? Are we prepared to follow him into the temple, where he’s sure to start kicking over other people’s lemonade stands?

And what tables are we prepared to see Jesus overturn? What injustices are we willing to take action against? Which systemic inequities are we primed to get on our feet and march into the seat of power to seek change for? Because Jesus always seems to be heading into places it would be a lot more convenient for us to avoid.

But following Jesus requires us to ask about who needs to hear our voices? What problems should we be up to our elbows in? If we’re to be faithful, we don’t really have a choice about wandering into dark alleys after Jesus—as much as it would make our lives easier.


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The Point (Luke 3:15-17, 21-22)

So, take heart, God will not be outmaneuvered; God’s purposes will not be frustrated. God is determined to establish God’s reign, a reign in which all people finally get to live in peace, in which all people get to see the arc of the moral universe finally bent all the way toward justice, in which all people are finally embraced by a love that feels like stepping through the front door at the end of a long journey home.


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The Blessed Mercy of Driving the Wrong Car

By Derek Penwell

I knew a young woman one time who, when she turned sixteen, was promised a car to drive. Needless to say, she was pretty stoked about the prospect of having her own wheels. She knew exactly what she wanted, too. This young woman wanted a new Camaro. She’d done her homework, so she knew just which option packages she wanted, all the bells and whistles. A fairly ambitious set of desires; but you’ve got to dream, right?

On the day she turned sixteen, she was ready to go with her parents down the dealership and order this fine piece of American engineering. Her dad poked his head in the door from outside and said, “Hey, sweetie! Come on out here. Mom and I have a surprise for you.”

She got up from the breakfast table and ran toward the door. She figured that this was even better than she expected. Her parents had anticipated her desires, and had gone out to surprise her by getting her the car of her dreams. Almost impossible to contain her excitement.

But as she cleared the side door and looked out in the driveway, what awaited her there wasn’t a new Camaro, but a ten year-old Pontiac Bonneville. Huge thing. It was the color of a rusted boat anchor. Looking at her “new” car, the birthday girl was crestfallen. She shot a glance at her parents. “But I wanted a Camaro,” she pouted.

Her dad said, “People in Hell want ice water. You don’t always get your first choice. This is a good car—it runs well and it’s safe.”

She broke down in tears. “Well, I’m not driving that thing around town. What will my friends think?”

And she didn’t drive it, at least for a while … until she couldn’t stand staying at home doing nothing. Then all of a sudden that Pontiac Bonneville didn’t look so bad. (Well, actually it did still look bad, but you know what I mean.)

I think about that Bonneville when I hear congregations complaining about not being who they think they should be, about not having the kind of resources to do really “important” work. You ever hear that kind of self-pity coming out of a congregation?

“We’re so small. We look at other congregations, and we’re embarrassed about what we have to offer. We don’t have a family life center. No sparkling youth program. Our ability to send our outreach dollars to the home office has been severely hampered. The whole thing is just really depressing.”

And often these congregations, because they have so little confidence, end up doing very little. Actually, let me rephrase that: These congregations end up doing very little of anything new or brave or exciting. Despairing of ever being Camaros, they’ve failed to understand that being a Pontiac Bonneville is still enough to get the job done.

What’s the job?

Of a car? To take you from point A to point B. And, given the constraints of speed limits (as well as the laws of physics), a well maintained Bonneville can do that as well as a Camaro.

What’s the job of a congregation?

To worship God and help equip followers of Jesus for the reign of God.

And here’s the thing: You can do that without a family life center, without a sparkling youth program, and without a lot of extra money.

You shame the angels if you don’t live bravely with what you have.