Dear American Christianity...

Dear American Christianity,

I regret to inform you that I can no longer be part of your fold.

I will not be subject to a nation that looks to its President as a symbol of how faith should be reflected instead of the God who created the faith.
I cannot contain my worship to the hours of 6:00 p.m. Wednesday night or 10 a.m. Sunday morning.
I do not see the necessity in taking part in “contemporary worship” to make one feel more in tune with the “contemporary Jesus,” nor can I understand being limited to worshipping the “traditional Jesus” in a traditional service. I worship a Jesus who was the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow and is not altered by the flowery words of a sacred creed of the rhythm section of a praise band.
I refuse to view Jesus as an excuse to feel comfortable in the prosperity of the “American Dream” because he will provide for me if I follow him. There’s much more to following Jesus than financial security. In fact, the Jesus that I follow has asked me to become poor so that I may gain wealth. I am content with being provided what I need and not what I want.

America, why is it that you’re too afraid to speak of God to your spouse, your neighbor, your children, or your co-worker, but when “those atheists” threaten to remove the 10 commandments from the City Courthouse you are frenzied into outrage? Honestly, did you even notice that they were displayed there before? And when did we restrict God so much in our minds that we come to believe his only edification in our man-made buildings is a stone statue or etching? Is it not true that God dwells all throughout the earth, even if there is not a monument erected in his honor? You should be more upset that you do not represent a moving, breathing testimonial to the works of God and therefore have to depend on the engravings of a stone or two words in a pledge of allegiance to show your faith.

America, when did you turn from the land of freedom of religion, to the enslaver of Jesus Christ? You have bound and gagged Word of God made flesh by hardening your own hearts to his calling, thus muting his voice through you. It used to be said that even the mountains and rocks call out to his glory, but it seems that they’re now the only voices left to be heard, for the words that you speak or even yell on late-night TV or early Sunday morning radio sound to me as a resounding gong or clanging cymbal. More importantly, you have attempted to tame the Lion of Judah by boxing him up in a 15 minute devotional book or a 7 step program to higher living. What happened to the God that was in every second of every day, much less 15 minutes. Have we forgotten who created the time we have to budget for our “quiet moments” with God? Why is not every moment, quiet or loud, lived in communion with the God who created them? There is a church that I pass on my route between Texas and Mississippi that advertises a 30 minute worship service. When did we create this fast-food Jesus? At one point did it become acceptable and even preferable that we limit God’s time to a half hour? That’s less time that most of the dramas shown on primetime television.

There are all these books that teach us how to be “Just like Jesus” on our bookstore shelves. If you’re going to market Jesus, then at least market the real Jesus, not the politically correct image. Where have you hidden the reckless Christ who loved the unlovables and touched the untouchables to grant them healing? Where is the Christ who called the prostitutes, the misfits, and the poor his friends over the righteous? When did that Jesus become too scandalous to talk about in our churches? Maybe the reason we can no longer talk about the woman at the well, the adoring prostitute turned follower of God, or the lusty betrayals of King David is because that might force us to face our own growing culture of adultery. Maybe we can’t talk much about how that crazy Jesus because we know he told several rich men that they must give up their worldly treasures to gain entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven. It seems that those words come in direct opposition to the “Prosperity Gospel” preached by the class favorites of our American Christianity school of theology.

The once challenging, moving, and zealous Lion has been groomed and caged to make way for a more pleasing and comfortable Jesus. America is too scared of the dangers that involve following Christ because it might mean giving up everything our magazine, television, and culture tell us we need. Or heaven forbid, we might be called to visit those “dark places” like Africa where we can’t even drink the water. I can assure you that there is more darkness in suburbia and more spiritual poison in America than what you ever physically befall you in Africa. If you want to see God, watch a child who has nothing sing Amazing Grace and mean it. Or watch when a community fasts together because there is not enough food for the whole group. America, you cannot see God because not only have you watered him down, but you have filled your lives with so much “stuff” that it’s crowding your vision.

I can’t be a part of you anymore. I never was a part of you, but now our divide has become too apparent to ignore any longer. Please do not label me as “religious” anymore because it’s become too negative a word for me to bear. I am not comfortable even being called a “Christian” because I do not want to be grouped together with the same people who bomb abortion shelters for the sake of life, or who damn their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ for the sake of salvation. Instead, just call me friend of Jesus, a follower of Christ, a lover of God and the people created in his image.

My dear American church, please don’t continue to sell your soul at the cost of living comfortably. You used to be the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Now you enslave yourselves and each other and live in cowardice. I pray that soon you choose to leave your safety behind and live dangerously for the God you used to champion. Even though I’ve left you, I will still fight to save you…one person at a time.

Love,
me