Friday, October 28, 2011

A Letter to our Students

“To all those who are loved by God and called to be saints:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” It has come to our attention that there are a few issues surrounding the Christian community on this campus that should be addressed.
Firstly, we would like to make it clear that it was never our intention to make anyone feel guilty for not being able to make it to one or more events. Perhaps it’s the nature of programming, or the cost of having various groups available to be a part of, but there seems to be an awkwardness that is created when one or more of these groups/activities is separated and elevated. While this was never the plan, we ask that you’d forgive us, and your fellow student leaders, for making this the case. You are college students and we understand that being a student is your primary role. So, to anyone that feels unconnected because you can’t make it to events, disinclined to continue trying to be a part of the community, or otherwise neglected, we apologize.
Secondly, there is a lack of promotional efforts and connectivity for finding fellow Christians on this campus. While it would be nice to have a time and place to always feel welcomed and encouraged by fellow students and faculty alike, our best efforts to do this have failed you. For this we are sorry. There is not enough listening happening from our end and we want you to know that your opinions and ideas are valuable to this community, so please feel inclined to impart such thoughts.
Lastly, after recent conversation with many students, it has become known that it is not effortless to be a Christian on this campus due to both ridicule and discouragement from students and faculty alike. While we have very little control over this, we will still apologize, because this is something that should not be happening to you in such a “tolerant” and “open minded” place of higher education.
As ministers to this campus we can’t help, but feel responsible for many of the issues being addressed above; however, we cannot be the only ones that take this news so earnestly. If these are issues that you are finding true then we must work together towards how things ought to be. Bring your concerns forward for discussion, allow your voices to be heard not only by us, but by your peers, stand up for your beliefs and allow your convictions to hold you to a higher standard then what is expected of you (from yourself and those around you) and let us gather together in order to lift each other up as brothers and sisters in the faith knowing that the victory is already won in Christ. We have nothing to be ashamed of or to fear. As the Psalmist said, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Let us live in this together, as a community of believers, and give confidence to one another in a place of ample discouragement.

“Valiantly bear the Cross,”
Your CCO Campus Ministers:
Jenn and Zane Sanders

Monday, October 3, 2011

A Little Girl in the Waiting Room Reveals My Own Narcissism

The little girl won’t shut up as I try to read my book. I look at her gallingly… Her grandmother shares with us, complete strangers, that the little girl suffered a small amount of brain trauma a few years back. I wonder how a little girl thinks of her self when her family talks about her like she’s not there. The man sitting behind them, looking as though he came directly out of a country song, was the only one who had the nads to ask what happened. The direct and diminutive response from “Grandma” was, “her dad.” Everyone in the waiting room was silent for a while, as if a doctor had come in to announce someone had died. I wonder what happened to her mother, the reason they were at the hospital in the first place. I think perhaps “her dad” got to her mother as well, but then I remember my own black eye and how I got that… The little girl continues vocalizing her thoughts to anyone that would listen and it distracts me enough to keep away from negative storylines. Imagine ‘Forest Gump’ at 5-years old with blond pigtails, polka dot rain boots, and the inability to tell the truth. “Grandma” keeps correcting her as she continually lies to the strangers that sit around me. “I’m in kindergarten.” She was only in her first year of preschool.  I pretend the lying has something to do with her abusive father or even the mother that she waits for at the hospital, but I only come back to her telling the woman that got up to get coffee, “I stoled your seat!” Am I a monster for thinking I can create stories based on the monstrous truths I run into?
At this point, I wonder if another person in the room is creating a similar commentary for me. “Look at that guy sitting over there quietly. I’d guess mid-20’s, I can tell he’s married from the ring on his hand, and a beautiful shiner to match on the left eye… I bet he got into a bar fight.” Or perhaps, after talking to me, they would assume I was breaking up a fight at my little sister’s inopportune wedding with one of the many guests there that disagreed with what was happening. Or, despite the occasional joking from my friends, they would think that my wife had hit me over some scuffle we had over dinner about work or family or whatever… If I were to tell them the truth, that I work with college students and a few of us guys were just wrestling at one of our fellowships, I imagine they would roll their eyes allowing imagination to take back over so they can go back to their enhanced, more enjoyable stories. Perhaps I should just stick to being a monster, picturing other’s stories in the quiet of my seat, instead of imagining what others imagine about me. That sort of narcissism would probably turn me into a bigger monster anyway…

Monday, September 12, 2011

Gently Gregarious: Re-Finding my Inner Child

The introvert stuck inside of me hides, quietly dormant among the late night conversations, the coffee house rendezvous, and the obligated social situations of a forced geniality that I find hauntingly poised, as though I am two people leaching off of one still, yet seemingly unaffected host body.  Although, among this lingering sentiment, I also find the extrovert I could have been if only my intimate reservations would allow me to speak the way I mistakenly portray the world around me. This is suddenly realized when I hear that still quiet voice in the back of my chest, pulling at my heart strings, aching for me to talk to those around me and relate to them in a way I do not wish to. I chuckle to myself when reading Paul’s words, “For I do not do the good that I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep doing” (Rom. 7:19). This is undoubtedly humanity explained to ourselves; unabridged, internal genuineness.
My Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are further scrutinized when I’m among close friends, as I seem to burst with vigor and dialogue at times, while at others I find myself quietly convened among these closest of allies sipping on coffee or wine (and longing for the latest book to have crossed my path). This is a mood brought on, not by boredom, but by the common heart of recognition in one another’s good company and the familiarity that it brings. There is an imbalanced spirit at work in my life that neither ebbs nor flows, moves nor stays.  I long for the courage to speak when the time is right and for the foresight to bring along an easily tucked away paperback.
This tension cripples me even more, in the form of entertainment, as I distract myself from the life I could be living if I had only cared enough to be a part of it. Do I have a story to tell that others will one day look back at with fond memories or will I be remembered for my complete and utter dullness? Will I be known as the man that could have been or the soothing, convivial being (with, what Michael Yaconelli called, Dangerous Wonder) who lived fully, despite a lopsided inner self. I long to live with a rampant playfulness, unafraid of outcomes, so focused on living—really living—that both of my inner selves can thrive, gently gregarious, in perfect unison with one another, to ebb and flow to the beat that God desires for the world to see.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Angry Conversations with Myself: Confession

It was Jubilee 2010, before Jenn and I started CCO; in fact, we were there interviewing with different area directors at Jubilee. I was technically still an undergrad student, but Jenn would have been one year out at this time and we were ready to start anew somewhere else. 

I can still remember when she came on stage to speak to the larger group. Susan Isaacs was a name I had heard and a face I had recognized, but was not prepared for what was to happen. Acting out a part from her book, Angry Conversations with God, she spoke with more truth and candid honesty than I had heard any Christian speak before.  So, Jenn and I, obviously, bought her book and were excited to read it. 

I’m not a huge corporate worship person. If I’m honest, it tends to annoy me more than bring me into the presence of God… as a musician I struggle with this (but that is another blog in the making). It was during one of the many worship times I decided to walk out to the Hearts and Minds bookstore setup ( in the main lobby. This is where I ran into Susan. I approached her meekly and thanked her for her honesty. I told her that I wish more Christians were as honest with their faith journey; it would make our job much easier. It was at this point that I burst into tears. 

I look back on this moment and ask myself over and over, “What the hell happened there?” I’m not sure what brought me into such a state of heartbreak. I have not had any terrible experiences in the church, or know someone close to me who has. Perhaps it was her story that made me empathetic towards her words, or just the thought of her struggle that so many experience. As I now read her book, I can’t tell you what hit me in that moment, but I must confess: I see a similar confusion and conflict in some of the students I work with, in my friends, family, and even myself. 

Where are my tears now? Why will I not weep when I see the injustices in the world? Or when I see someone struggling with the idea of God’s love for them? Perhaps this will be an ongoing struggle, but for now I want to thank Susan Isaacs for bringing on those tears, as embarrassed as I was at the time, I pray that God can open those ducts of empathy on a more regular, and appropriate, basis.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

A Senior Self-reflection

This is another paper I found from my 4th year of undergrad. After reading it not much has changed, but much is to be said about this theme in my life. Perhaps a part-two will follow; after the summer.

A Self-reflection

“There are only questions in art—no answers…
The question is where we are now?  But there is no answer.”
Norman Rosenthal[1]

“…Art, creativity, communication, the enjoyment of beauty
in this context need no justification.  The ultimate justification
is that they come as a good and gracious gift from God above.”
Franky Schaeffer[2]

One of my favorite musicians, Glen Hansard, put it simply like this, during an interview, “I’ve always seen myself as someone who makes a career off of music like in the traditional sense that I live in a village and I’m the musician and that guys the carpenter and you’re the baker… we all have a place.”  God has created us to be image bearers.  Yet, at the same time, He has made us all so very different, each with our own talents and weakness’.  So here lies my problem: I am a Liberal Arts Major with experience in many different fields and not much to show for it. How am I supposed to choose a job that I want to have to pay the bills outside of what God is calling me to be and do? When God called Jonah to prophesy to Nineveh he ran away and got swallowed by a whale. I don’t want to be that guy! I want to follow the path God lays before me… but even I don’t know exactly what that means. Much like the quote by Hansard, some are meant to be farmers and some blacksmiths; in this world-village I am the musician and poet. It is simply what I do, but does God want that from me as a Christian?   

"The commands of Christ can be carried out, should be carried out in daily life. Spirituality unconnected with real existence is like a car in neutral endlessly revving going nowhere, while the occupants pat themselves on the back and delight at the speed at which the engine is turning over. Activity for activity’s sake is what marks present Christianity. It is going nowhere. If the existence of the millions of evangelical Christians the press says exist, if the activity, if the money spent, raised, used, the programs, the bumper stickers, the national efforts, the magazines, if these things are truly accomplishing something, why is culture moving at such devastating speed in the reverse direction? Why is America a pagan state? It is because so often these things are unconnected to redeeming man where he really is in real life, and to areas that really count today—creativity, society, law, politics, etc."[3]

Perhaps this is a better way of looking at how I am to be as a Christian and an Artist; seeing everyone (including myself) where they are in real life and representing that by my words and actions reconciling that with the grace that God gives everyone.

A big part of why I feel that as Christians we should continue being a part of the Arts is in the idea of showing life as it is and there is no one better to imitate then Christ himself in all of the many examples he shows in the Gospels.  One story that particularly sticks out in my mind, for two reasons, is when he stopped the crowd from stoning the woman caught in adultery.  The first reason that I find this story relevant is the fact that when the woman was brought to Jesus and He was asked what should be done—Jesus is drawing in the dirt!  How incredibly beautiful that the God of the universe, when confronted by the sins of a woman, doodles in the earth.  Another reason that this story of Christ’s life forces me to reflect is that it was mentioned in the musical RENT during one of its many songs, “Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn.”  This is a motto of mine that has forced me to look at the world as it is: ugly, wondrous, and filled with inadequacies, and I am no better.  

I find that I have a way with words. Sometimes direct or with an occasional rambling, but I find that when I write the real of me, the heart of me, the Christ in me—comes out and lives, even breathes, for a while, along the page. I find my fingers itching to be placed on six bronzed steel strings during any kind of worship, while I myself critique the words of songs and play with the thesaurus in my head while the rhythmic sound with punctuation rings on my brain like a monkey playing cymbals. Do I do it to feel what is real or do I know what is real because of it? Am I an artist? Am I a child? Am I a slacker? Am I blind? Am I real, me?  These are all questions that I’m not sure have any specific answers (go back to the first quote on this paper); yet, for some reason the mystery behind the questions that art and life bring don’t bother me as much as comfort me in my own endeavors.  Take music for example.

"Music, as we have seen, is so very close to us, lodged deep within our bodies. It is about as down to earth as anything can be. But at the same time, it exists beyond our bodies, connecting us to larger realities. Music is much bigger then we are, pervading the entire universe both in a physical sense and in its transcendent dimensions… Scientists used to think that the smallest particles in the universe were atoms. Then they discovered electrons and protons. Then came quarks. Now scientists have discovered something they call strings. These are like tiny pieces of spaghetti, except millions of times smaller. They vibrate just like the strings on a violin or guitar but at a fantastically high frequency. If the scientists are right, that means that the most fundamental particle in the universe is a vibrating string. Think of it! This offers a new way of understanding a very old idea: the whole creation is singing to God."[4]

Here is the beauty of our Creator at its best.  I’ve always felt that I was created to make something that people can relate to and what better way to relate then the sub-molecules of our bodies joining together in a harmonious joyfulness that allows understanding of the reality that is life?  My existence is for this Christ part of me to escape and make itself found in the hearts of all creation.

While I feel that this paper is me digressing all of the things that are going on in my head and attempting to explain how God has so marvelously ruined my life through art and grace, it’s where I find myself—here in the now—wrestling with God about how to better sharpen my craft and allowing it to be the worship that I continually strive to live and the “mannishness of man”[5] to come out of me. I find that God is calling me to live beyond the norm, to never settle for second best. I want my life to be that of worship, but not just a “praise and worship,” imitation, trendy life to be lived, but a justice filled, loving, and true, worth-living kind of life.

[1] Norman Rosenthal, The Christian Imagination, p. 69
[2] Franky Schaeffer, Addicted to Mediocrity, p. 20
[3] Franky Schaeffer, Addicted to Mediocrity, p. 54 & 55
[4] Don Saliers/Emily Saliers, A Song To Sing, A Life To Live, p. 29
[5] Francis A. Schaeffer, Art and the Bible, p. 35

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Summer Reading list

I have a few confessions. First, I'm posting this because I believe in doing so it will make me more likely to finish this summer. Second, I'm not usually one to make one of these. Actually, the confession is that I wouldn't consider myself much of a reader until graduating college; so, to hold myself accountable, as well as to start on my "making goals" decision, here is my summer reading list, in no particular order:
For All God’s Worth, written by N.T. Wright
  • I've heard a lot about N.T. Wright, in Christian circles, and how he is something like the next C.S.  Lewis, so I thought I'd give this one a try since we own it.
Made to Stick, written by Chip and Dan Heath
  • Bruce has been raving about this book over the past year and I keep putting it back, so I want to be sure I actually read it, because, as I've learned from my past, Bruce doesn't just throw a crappy book at you to read.
Angry Conversations with God, written by Susan Isaacs
  • At Jubilee 2010, Susan Isaacs was there and performed part of her book which in turn brought me to tears. Not in the moment, but embarrassingly, right in front of her after introducing myself to her (which as most of you know, is pretty difficult). I haven't been able to get past that, but now I want to cry through her book.
Do Justice: a social justice road map, edited by Kristin Vander Giessen-Reitsma
  • Justice is what I feel is the most important calling of Christians and this book comes highly recommended, being "a social justice road map."
The Naked Gospel, written by Andrew Farley
  • I know nothing about this book. I found amongst all of the moving we've done in the past 2 years. Plus the title has two of my favorite past-times...
Blue Like Jazz, written by Donald Miller
  • I just read "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years," so I want to read his previous book too.
The Dangerous Act of Worship, written by Mark Labberton
  • I'm actually half way through this, but I thought it still counted.

Remember, Remember

Here's another installation of the things I found from cleaning out my computer. As many of you may know, or not, I was in a car accident that nearly took my life my senior year I had of high school. This is that story. 

Remember, Remember
“Do you smoke marijuana?”
This is the welcome I get from my sister over dinner upon returning home. 
“Because I hear that it really affects your memory…”
             My sister has a genuine need to remind me of the depressing qualities of my personality.  She isn’t purposefully evil; she just likes to see that look on my face that lets her know I’ve been defeated.  As a senior in high school I was in a horrific car accident that left me nearly dead with a damaged and battered brain (along with a triple break to the right side of my pelvis and a shattered arm).  For this reason, my memory isn’t that great.  Those who see me throughout the week for meals or classes may not notice any side effects, but those lucky enough to see my charming face on a more regular basis will tell you the story of my accident in exact detail.  All I was doing was sitting down with my sister for a nice meal, telling her stories about my life, failing to remember that this was the third (maybe fourth) time I’ve told her this particular story.  This sort of thing happens to me everyday as I talk to people, making plans, telling stories… “You were in a car accident? What happened?”  At this point my roommate retells the story the same way I would have.

Senior year homecoming, Jess was my date.  We have been friends for years and being that neither of us had dates it worked out nicely to get to go with each other.  The school day happened, which for us meant skipping class anyway possible, so we spent most of the day in the gym setting up for the dance.  Hanging green and purple streamers were her job while I blew up the same colored balloons as though the life inside of me would escape.  Mardi Gras was our theme that year; I thought that the whole thing looked sort of like a cheep dance club that should have updated their look years ago.   Afterwards we went about the dance festivities of getting dressed up then dinner and whatnot.  We skipped out on the flowers this year, because who wants to spend the money on that anyhow?  After all, they just get thrown away at the end of the night (that being an understatement in my case).  I wake up later not even wearing my suit and not knowing where I was.

While going home for a short time I would have to get in all of the doctors appointments that I could: eyes, bone, back, brain; it’s been around 2 years since the accident now.  I get a call from my mother trying to set them all up.  This call is only the first of four from her while visiting some friends with my girlfriend Jennifer.  She proceeds to tell them of my cell phone addiction while I talk to my mother and how I would feel naked without it…  I attempted to argue about not only the conveniences of such an instrument, but the necessity.  By their laughter I realized that they couldn’t understand.  What if I have a planned meeting that I can’t forget?  Or I sleep through something important?  Through all of my ranting and raving I made the mistake of sharing that when in an awkward situation I will sometimes pretend someone is calling so I can make a quick escape.  Some laughs and even boos surface as I am blamed for weaseling my way out of this conversation with my previous “so-called” calls from my mother.  At this point I recognize that my attempts of suggesting the cell phone as a necessary accessory have failed miserably.  They aren’t thinking of a useful object to help with scheduling and forgetfulness.  No, now they are now picturing it as a tool to be used and abused for my own personal liking and I find myself forgetting how I even got into this mess, as I usually do.

“The Silver Ring Thing” is a big thing for Christian high school kids—saving your virginity until marriage is what churchgoing kids are told to do—it was during this event I got the ring.  I had gone a couple of times not knowing whether I believed everything about it or not, but my last year of high school I still wore the ring to make everyone believe I wanted to do the “right” things.  It was sometime after the accident, the nurses gave me a suppository; I found out later that means pain reliever up the butt…  Dad walked into the waiting room with some of the things I had on me at the time of the accident: phone, wallet, camera, and the ring. There, some friends and family were waiting to hear some kind of good news.  Holding up the ring he says to them, “I guess he won’t be needing this anymore.” That’s my dad, always joking around.  The good news didn’t come until three weeks later when I woke up from a coma.

I truly value the friends and family who are sympathetic of my small problem and am beyond a doubt appreciative of those who can joke with me about my injuries.  Once when visiting a doctor that specializes in trauma rehab (because of the problem with my memory) the doctor asked what type of side effects have been noticed. After naming a few of the things I could think of, mom pulled out a small list of things I’ve talked about in the past, whispering, “I wrote down everything he’s mentioned because I figured he’d forget.”  This reflected a rising hysteria that silently said to me how bad my memory has truly become.  Even every time Jennifer and I make plans; it doesn’t matter if the plans are made for next month or that same day. “Make sure you set an alarm” or “Don’t forget to put that in your phone” are only some of the comments made during any kind of planning. 
“Dinner next week with Tim & Joy?” 
I pull out my phone calendar.
“Don’t you want to put that on your schedule, Zane?” 
Why yes, I do! 
I silently curse as I imagine the thoughts going through their heads—Why can’t he just remember? —until I realize that those are thoughts of my own beckoning me to become the person I wish I was.  For this reason my cell phone has become one of my best friends; setting alarms, keeping dates on the built in calendar, and text messages from friends to make sure that I actually am where I said I was going to be.

In the hospital I was never told the true story of what happened that night, but at that point in time it wasn’t so important to me either.  After I got out of the hospital I sat with Mikey, Jess’ cousin, as well as one of my good friends, in the back of the high school auditorium as he erupted out of pain. He was sitting in the backseat of the car at the time of the accident.  I always grabbed shotgun.  We left an after party sober and in enough time to drive around before heading to Ian’s house for a night of funny flicks in an uncomfortable setting.  Now, in my hometown there is a bridge that is well known for jumps (which is when you speed up the bridge or hill to get the vehicle to lift in the air).  We went to this bridge searching for adventure, thanks to Ian’s bright thinking, and thought we were clear for take off.  We were unfortunately mistaken.  Another car also came to that bridge and was headed right for us when we landed.  While we don’t know who this person was, we do know we missed them.  Swerving and hitting the guardrail, our car pinballed to the other side of the road where after falling into a ditch, we continued to spin and slide, upside-down, until we finally stopped by means of a telephone pole.

“Do you remember that upside-down house we saw on vacation?” 
“Are you serious?! That was too cool!” 
This is not an uncommon conversation in my family.  I think it has more or less become a joke among those who love me most with a subtext that reads: let’s see what we can get him to believe today.  We really had seen it… after looking at pictures I still didn’t remember.   
I went to Florida and got my right nut pierced. 
“…um. No you didn’t.”
Life is funny when on oxycontin.  Despite the fact that I would on no occasion consider getting any kind of piercing near, around, or even remotely close to my testicles, I was convinced that I had gone down to Florida with some friends and had the job done.  In reality, I was just lying in a hospital bed while under the influence of pain relieving (and apparently hallucinogenic) drugs.  I find it interesting that when I need to remember certain things, I can’t.  But when I think I actually do… I shouldn’t.
The only thing separating me from that pole was the compacted remains of the Taurus we were inside of.  Throughout this entire episode I had suffered a four-way break to the right side of my pelvis, a shattered right arm, and an unknown measure of head trauma as Ian and I bumped heads somewhere in this roller coaster ride of a lifetime.  Mike remembers this whole thing from the safety of his seat behind Ian, while the driver himself left the scene a little vague after suffering a mild concussion.  I, on the other hand, took a life flight to three weeks of unconsciousness and years of feeling the consequences.

Another thing that I tend to have a problem with since the accident is noise in unnecessary places. Whether it be those who talk the whole way through a movie, coughs, sniffles, and movement during a stressful test, or stupid people talking, I get easily distracted by all of it.  I have, however, found ways to overcome this problem.  At any given time you may walk up to me and see purple foam ear plugs popping out of both of my ears and the concentration on my face that seems to correspond to that of a constipated gorilla.  There was one time, my sophomore year, when I was sleeping and my roommates returned to the bedroom after classes, music blaring, and didn’t see me sleeping in my bed.  Now to understand how they didn’t see me a conception on how our room was set-up is required.  Having three people shoved into a room that most homes would only consider housing one person in makes space efficiency most important; thus, the triple-decker bunk beds.  We were told that it couldn’t be done, but there I was sandwiched in the middle with barely enough room to roll over, sleeping after a long day of classes.  For this reason, with the blanket over my head, it didn’t seem as though there was anyone there.  When I finally woke up to pull the foam out of my ears, both of them apologized profusely.  I honestly didn’t know why because I didn’t hear a thing.  Or perhaps I just couldn’t remember…

The doctors told me that I wouldn’t walk for graduation in June.  Laughing, I told them I had musical try-outs in January.  Not only did I walk beautifully for graduation, but I also played the part of a monkey in our musical, jumping and dancing up and down the stage with Mike by my side as a fellow primate.  After I got out of the hospital, Ian couldn’t talk to me about the accident (even after I knew the truth) and just avoided conversation about it at all.  To this day, four years after the incident, we have yet to talk about our after party flight of fate.  But part of me grew up as I learned how to walk again instead of visiting universities or whatever else you’re supposed to do your senior year; I knew that I had purpose for my life—why else would I still be alive?  This accident gave me new eyes to see things, again, for the first time… even if I can’t remember anything else, when I wake up stiff or sore after a long week, I know that feeling is not there to defeat me, but to remind me that life has yet to be lived.  Which is the way I should have been living all along.  Now I have a daily reminder.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Alienation of Non-Christians: Christians Ineffectively Using Words to Create Division in the World

I was cleaning out my computer this morning when I came across some of my old writings. Thought this one was something worth sharing. Enjoy.

Alienation of Non-Christians:
Christians Ineffectively Using Words to Create Division in the World

            The tongue is one of the most exercised muscles in the body.  In a typical week, an average person will verbalize enough words to fill a 500-page book[1], but are all of these words carefully chosen and are they completely necessary for our communication?  Is it possible that we use too many words to convey something that could be said in a simpler way?  John O’Hayre thinks that is the case.  In O’Hayre’s book, Gobbledygook Has Gotta Go, he looks at the effects of government writers trying to carry out complex business with difficult and unnecessary language.  In one of his earlier examples you find yourself face to face with a 217-word memo that O’Hayre systematically cuts all of the difficult language and unnecessary comments out of and then reiterates what the original memo said in only 70 words.  While O’Hayre’s example is specific and directed towards a business crowd, couldn’t it be applied to the terms and language that we as Christians use on a regular basis?  I believe that it not only could in the way that Christians use Christian jargon or “Christianese”[2] in their everyday language, but also should if Christians are to be seen as relevant and intelligible.  In 2008 Islam passed Catholicism as the number one world religion;[3] this is enough cause for the Christian church to start wondering what they are doing to cause this drastic movement away from Christ.
            Many Christians see their religious purpose in what is known as the great commission.  This is where Jesus tells his followers to go and make disciples of all nations.[4] These same people are using tactics that say to non-Christians “turn or burn” with other kinds of Christian doublespeak, words like “reconciliation,” “saved,” “accepting the Lord as your Savior,” and other various terms that are behind the times, which are foreign to many non-Christians, who can scarcely understand what language is being thrown in their faces.  William Lutz mentions in his book, The New Doublespeak, that people who use this kind of doublespeak or jargon are usually trying to get away with something, particularly having to do with their own agenda.  You find these same efforts used in politics, advertizing, and business.  In an article I found online[5] (which may have no scholarly qualifications, but still shows how people are feeling about the Christian faith) states that the church is not, in fact, doing what it claims to do, “It wasn’t doing anything to resolve poverty issues It didn’t transform politicians into servants It didn’t reduce arrogance It didn’t increase the numbers of people who volunteer in my hometown to help others It didn’t dynamically improve the gifts given to pantries It didn’t improve the divorce rate It didn’t spend energy on protecting the planet.  Where are we going wrong when Christ himself—who taught against these things—is no longer seen in the actions and words of His supposed followers?  unchristian, a book written by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons, based upon groundbreaking research with 16-to-29-year-olds, is aimed towards helping the church to understand this same age group’s mindset, their skepticism and their experiences.  We shouldn’t be so surprised that there are so many people that have seen past the church’s hypocrisy.  After all, even our own word choice is littered with insincerity and falsification.
            Maybe we need to change our mega-church, Americanized, self-seeking theology by taking our own importance out of “Christ’s work” and placing more Christ into our selves.  Ed Cyzewski shares great ways of thinking about our lives in this same way in his book, Coffeehouse Theology, saying that “Theology determines the content of the gospel we believe, the way in which we share the gospel, and who we share this good news with our ability to faithfully form theology and then to put it into practice can either help or hinder our ability to carry out our mission to share the good news of Christ.[6]  It’s pretty clear that Christian’s theology of how they live out their lives and use their words is not being thought out in the context of the gospels or the man we have claimed to represent.
            Jesus, separately from the great commission, also calls us to be the salt and light of the world[7], which in plain English (and to get away from this Christianese that we’re discussing) is to have a lasting effect on others.   Franky Schaeffer says in his book, Addicted to Mediocrity that “any group that willingly or unconsciously sidesteps creativity and human expression gives up their effective role in the society in which they live.  In Christian terms, their ability to be the salt of that society is greatly diminished.[8]  Now here we find Christians, who are attempting to do what they believe to be right, using tactics that not only make them superfluous and at times inappropriate, but also proving to be counterproductive towards the goal they may be trying to accomplish in the first place; Christians should attract people by their life and actions, not the opposite.  We are meant to live for more than catching people in some spiritual net just to cast them out, after they fit into our perfect cookie cutters, and to go do the same to others. 
            When Christians think they know all of the right things to say and the right ways to say it, they look and act as though they are superior to those who don’t do the same things.  This mindset creates a division with the people whom Christians are really trying to get in touch with; if we are all just trying to impress each other with our Bible knowledge and thoughts on what we think about things like predestination or the qualities of God’s love, then we’re reaching the wrong crowd (especially if the basis being used is from the great commission).  Schaeffer puts it like this, “True spirituality is obeying the commands of the Scripture and effecting change in the real world, not hiding behind religious experience.[9]  These jargon words are a part of that religious experience that Christians are hiding behind.   O’Hayre also mentions that pompous words are “just plain phony, filigreed flapdoodle.  Defined this means not genuine, merely decorative oily talk that has a false look of genuineness.  Is that how Christian’s want to be seen in this world?
          Lutz’s words can stimulate us to fight this kind of doublespeak by remembering that the battle belongs to us as individuals.  “We can’t look to others or to organizations We can’t say that the fight is too big for us, that the fight should be waged by people who are in the position to do somethingJust keep reminding yourself, if you don’t do it, who else will?  And then begin.[10] So let’s stop alienating, misleading, manipulating, and (whatever else you could insert into these parenthesis) others with our fallacious language and really strive to live the way that God has called us to live as Christians, though our actions AND our words.

[6] Ed Cyzewski, Coffeehouse Theology, p. 31
[7] Matthew 5:13-16
[8] Franky Schaeffer, Addicted To Mediocrity, p.24
[9]  Franky Schaeffer, Addicted To Mediocrity, p. 57
[10] William Lutz, The New Doublespeak, p. 198