Give Me that Old-Time Religion?

One Christmas during my childhood, my family received a small electric chord organ and several songbooks. The organ allowed budding musicians to make music using a simple system of numbers and letters. Notes corresponded with numbers that were played with the right hand, while a series of buttons, played with the left hand, produced chords.

One of the songbooks we received included a gospel version of the spiritual “Old-Time Religion.” Because I liked pushing the chord buttons as much as the keys, I didn’t always pay much attention to the time signatures. Instead, I would often play songs at a pace I liked. As a result, my family was often subjected to a rather plodding version of the song:

Give me that Ooooold-Tiiiiiime Re-LIIIG-ion/
Give me that Ooooold-Tiiiiiime Re-LIIIG-ion/
Give me that Ooooold-Tiiiiiime Re-LIIIG-ion/
It’s gooood eee-nouuugh for meeeeeee.

While my love for spirituals like this one has only deepened—and the gospel music tradition I’m a part of allows for a lot of creativity with meter—I wouldn’t say that I practice “old-time religion.”

On the one hand, I deeply value the heritage and theology of those who originally sang this song, and I share with them the Christian beliefs described in statements like the Apostles’ Creed.

On the other hand, these old-time co-religionists would likely be taken aback by my life. I’ve studied theology more broadly than they did, and am influenced by a number of denominational traditions. I have attended some churches where blue jeans and T-shirts are the dress code, and others where we sit around small tables in a café rather than gathering in pews. I suspect that my tendency to research, analyze, and re-analyze theological questions would strike them as tedious, unnecessary, and perhaps bolder than becomes a young lady. And the sounds of today’s gospel music would scandalize them.

Yet while my life doesn’t look or sound like old-time religion, I’ve had several opportunities to reflect on traditional Christian language. I’m occasionally surprised—and changed—by moments where its firmness and clarity cause me to reflect on my life.

For example, some time ago, I was in a friendlationship—you know, a hybrid involving mutual caring, lots of time spent together, an emotional connection, but no romantic commitment—with a man I cared for very deeply. The problem was, I wasn’t totally sure where his faith was. I knew that we’d grown up in similar Christian traditions, and because I really liked him, I’d put off asking some questions I knew I’d eventually need to settle.

This went on for a while, largely because leaving important questions unanswered is key to maintaining a solid friendlationship. During that time, other friends listened to me analyze and re-analyze my not-boyfriend’s words for signs of shared faith. Eventually, my friend Ed—a big-brother figure who, along with his wife, listens to my romantic ups and downs—gently interrupted one of these talking sessions with some direct questions. When I didn’t have the answers, he got very quiet.

“You know, LaTonya, at some point this becomes disobedience,” he said. Ed pointed out that holding these questions in without pursuing answers was not a positive direction if my hope was to marry a man who shares my Christian faith. Later, when I spoke with my mother about my questions, she posed one of her own: “Is your friend apostate?”

Um, wow.

“Friendlationship” is not part of the shared vocabulary of Christians throughout the ages. But “disobedient” and “apostate” are definitely shared concepts. Up until that point, I’d simply thought of myself as very, very patient. But hearing these “old-time” words applied to the choices I was making (or choosing not to make) sobered me. Even before the friendlationship reverted to a friendship, I realized that I needed to be willing to ask tough questions earlier.

More recently, I asked my mom (an example of a Titus 2 woman in my life) to pray me through an interpersonal challenge. I was struggling with anger and unforgiveness, and I couldn’t get past it.

I expected Mom to pray that God would comfort me, that he would soften my heart, and that somehow I’d end up feeling better, so I could behave better. Then, she began:

“Heavenly Father, LaTonya would like to repent—” Mom paused. “Honey, that is what you’re doing, right? Repenting?”

I was taken aback. I’d expressed that I knew my behavior wasn’t right. But hearing the word repent clarified what I needed from God. As real as my feelings were (and Mom did pray for them later), I needed God’s help to turn around and go in a different direction. I agreed: “That’s what I need, Mom. I need to repent.”

Yet again, language—historic language that isn’t always prominent in seeker-friendly or postmodern settings—served as a prod in the right direction.

I’m not sure what became of the chord organ. And while I still listen to the song “Old-Time Religion,” I wouldn’t describe my own faith that way. But I remain grateful for the words I encounter in the Word—and in the loving Christian community I experience through friends like these. These words are good enough for me.

Praying Together

For years I attended a prayer group that included close friends. We prayed for one another, the church leadership, and for any needs we happened to know about. After one of these times, a friend said she was considering dropping out of the group because she felt overwhelmed by the prayer requests. It seemed to her as though everyone’s problems were insurmountable, and although we’d been praying for the same things for months, it didn’t seem as though anyone’s life was getting any better.

So what were we doing wrong? Nowhere in Scripture do I find prayers for Marta’s fibromyalgia, Jess’s unruly children, or Connie’s rotten work conditions. The prayers in the Bible are powerful and life-changing, full of God’s power and glory.

Consider Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 1:16-19. In fact, read it aloud with feeling:

“I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.”

Wow! Such a prayer puts fibromyalgia, unruly children, and rotten work conditions in perspective. But obviously, we shouldn’t ignore our problems and pretend they don’t exist. How can we transform them by putting them into the bigger context of what God wants to do in our lives?

Make Them God-Centered
When you pray, remember who you are talking to. You’ve been given the privilege of coming before the creator of the universe. This is the God who made everything that lives, and he has given you the honor of bringing requests before him. That’s why so many teachers tell us to start our prayers with adoration. When we tell God how great, powerful, and magnificent he is, it reminds us that he truly is those things. It gives us a sense of awe and expectancy that something great could come out of this conversation we’re having with the One who can do anything.

Paul spent more than half of his prayer in Ephesians 1 extolling God’s virtues. When Paul wrote this book, he was in prison. He could have listed a litany of prayer requests that would have made ours pale in comparison, but instead he focused on who God is. Surely the power of that prayer carried him further than any listing of complaints. It also showed the Ephesians how to pray victoriously in the midst of whatever they were facing.

Make Them Praise-Filled
Paul started his prayer by saying, “I have not stopped giving thanks . . .” He’d learned that the key to praying is not to focus on a list of troubles, but to praise God for what he has done. How can we do that—how can we give thanks in everything, as Paul later admonished us to do in his letter to the Thessalonians?

We have to trust that God knows what he’s doing. Marta has to be able to say, “Thank you, God, for my fibromyalgia. I don’t get why I have to have it, but you do, so I’m going to trust you with it. I’d be delighted if you’d take it away, but if not, I trust you’ll use it for good in my life.”

Jess has to say, “Thank you for my unruly children. They are a gift from you, and I know you will equip me with wisdom to know how to help them. It may be a bumpy road, and they may have to go through some hard times before they learn their lessons, but I’m trusting them to you.”

Connie must learn to say, “Thank you, Lord, for my job. You led me there, so I’m trusting that you want to use me with my co-workers, and that you’ll equip me to do this job well. If you’re leading me elsewhere, I trust that you’ll make that clear too. Teach me what you want me to learn through this difficulty.”

Make Them Life-Changing
My friend was frustrated with our prayer time because it seemed nothing ever changed. Maybe that’s because we weren’t praying for the right change. I’ve noticed that the vast majority of our prayers are for God to change our circumstances. Maybe God doesn’t want to change our circumstances. Maybe he wants to change us.

That doesn’t mean he won’t ever change our circumstances. I’ve seen God supply needs, open opportunities, and heal people in incredible ways. But I’ve also spent years praying for something that never changes. That should be my first clue that I may not be praying for the right thing.

Looking at our three people again may help us think about this. If Marta has been praying for God to take away her fibromyalgia and he hasn’t done it, she should probably focus on how he wants to use it in her life. Maybe God wants her to start a support group for other fibromyalgia sufferers. Or possibly he wants her to express more compassion for others who are suffering by praying for them or sending money to a research organization that is looking for a cure. Perhaps he just wants to get her attention—and as C.S. Lewis said, pain is his megaphone.

Jess needs to pray for her children the way Paul prayed for the Ephesians—that God would give them the Spirit of wisdom and revelation so that they may know him better. She needs to pray that her children would know the hope to which God has called them, their glorious inheritance, and God’s incomparably great power. Jess needs to pray these things for herself, too, so that she’ll be able to model such a walk with God for her children.

Connie should honestly express to God her frustrations with her job. If she has a possibility of changing jobs, she needs to pray for God’s confirmation and wisdom about doing so. She needs to get the advice of other godly people to see their perspectives. If she’s done all that and feels that God wants her to stay in her job, she needs to ask him what he wants to accomplish in and through her. Connie should ask God to change her perspective and give her joy. After all, if Paul could find joy while sitting in a prison cell, Connie can probably find joy in her job if she lets God open her eyes to it.

Our group prayers changed after my friend complained. We realized that we were treating prayer as a complaint session, when in reality it’s an incredible opportunity to gain the wisdom, direction, and power of the King of kings who rules all time and places.

Twenty-One Things the World Will Say About Christians

Friends, I'm up late in a hotel room writing what is too good not to share, just like any good live-blogger does. Day One of the Christianity21 conference in Minneapolis has been full of provocative ideas, revelations, and creativity. I spent the chilly afternoon sipping Peace Coffee (I stepped on an ICE patch in the parking lot, thank you very much), listening to 21-minute sessions, and limping under the weight of my computer bag as I interviewed greats like Phyllis Tickle and Mimi Haddad (more reasons to stay tuned to Kyria in the months ahead!). While I can't describe every way the Lord is working in one late-night blog post, I'd like to share Lauren Winner's 21 characteristics that - if we all are faithful now - the world will say about Christians by the end of this century. In other words, she hopes that the average person on the street in the year 2092 might think of these qualities when asked what Christians are like.

By the end of the 21st century, Christians will...
1. Be peacemakers.
2. Be expected to be the first ones to show up when disaster strikes.
3. Rest, because they know they're not the ones in charge.
4. While resting, reconfigure their work.
5. Live well in their bodies, whether by their diet, their sex lives, or the clothes they wear.
6. Practice boredom. They will not succumb to the "fetish of the new or the cult of novelty" when it comes to their faith.

7. Be truth-tellers, even if the answer is "I don't know." Even "authenticity" and confession can be a pose.
8. Practice silence in small and big ways, including in solitude.
9. Live in communities where everyone has access to power, and everyone can and will share it with others.
10. Live in communities where women can do anything.
11. Go to church with the people they live near.
12. Persist in making Kingdom demands. This means taking the same request to God, over and over!
13. When we think about God, we think about what needs to change next. This is largely informed by Tozer: what we think about when we think about God is the most important thing about ourselves.
14. Eat fewer strawberries. We will tread lightly on the planet and not risk the energy and harm to our planet just so we can have strawberries in January.
15. See ourselves as small characters in a larger story. As Winner's colleagues at Duke suggest, a "saint" can fail in a way that a "hero" cannot, which opens the doors to ideas like forgiveness and new possibilities of God.
16. Lament. ("We don't do this well. Jews do it a bit better.")
17. Throw good parties. Afterall, we're here to practice for the heavenly banquet!
18. Not gossip. This means talking about someone who is not present. Period.
19. Have unity without obliterating diversity, and that's because of the Trinity.
20. Understand something about grace (despite our 19 wonderful attributes above).
21. Describe reality and the spiritual sacraments in such a way as to "make mouths water and hearts hunger."

Many thanks to Lauren Winner for these prophetic words and for her friendship with Kyria's blog for women leaders, Gifted for Leadership. To hear more about the Christianity21 conference, follow @KyriaDigital on Twitter and search for the tag #c21.

So what do you think? Do you also hope for these 21 characteristics? Are we on the right track to Winner's 22nd century? How is God already at work causing these things to pass? Which one do you think we're closest to "getting" now?

The “Stop Abortion” Signs

This past Sunday afternoon as my husband and I were running errands, we passed a line of people holding signs along the side of the road.

The signs held such messages as: “Pray to end abortion”; “Lord, forgive our sins”; “Don’t kill unborn children.”

I agreed with every single sign. And I was impressed that every person holding a sign had a real sense of dignity and purpose. They all stood tall and silent. Each face carried deep conviction.

I applaud them for their commitment.

But my husband and I began to talk about that commitment.

“I wonder,” I mentioned after we drove past, “how many of those folks volunteer at pregnancy centers? How many have adopted unwanted children after abortion was stopped? How many help educate and train the women who didn’t have abortions on how to love and care for their babies? How many are involved in caring for foster care children?”

“In short,” my husband said, “how many are actually doing something pro-life?”

Don’t misunderstand, holding a sign is a respectable way to express our convictions. But are we truly living out our convictions when we hold signs? After all, anybody can hold a sign. We sacrifice an hour or so of our time and stand with our message printed on cardboard. Then we go home and continue with our lives as before.

I have a friend who refuses to place a fish sticker on her car’s bumper because she says, “If I carry that Jesus sticker, then I have to actually drive like I’m a Christian!” We laugh about it, but I think she makes an interesting point that applies to this discussion.

If we hold signs, do people who don’t know Christ look to see if we’re truly living out that commitment by doing more than just wearing a pro-life “badge”? If we value the sanctity of life, does that mean more of a commitment from Christ-followers?

What do you think?