I remember the day Larry ran afoul of 'Mr. Astronomy.' We were in a small group meeting, maybe a dozen people in attendance. The subject for the night was scientific creationism. Since they picked such a controversial topic, you would think they would be prepared for a bit of discussion. I was delighted at the prospect.(mostly of seeing Larry shine in one of his areas of expertise, and of the intellectually stimulating conversation that seems so rare in the Church) Still, it quickly became evident that they were mainly interested in supporting young earth/short creation days by maligning evolution and old earth as the doctrinal flagships of demonic secular humanism.

'Mr. Astronomy' who was the proud recipient of a 'B' in his high school astronomy class, spent several minutes calling the Doppler Effect a hoax. This was just way too much for Larry, who got 'A's in all of his astronomy and physics classes, in high school and college. So he responded by citing spectrographic analyses and so on in support of Doppler. What ensued was a spirited 20 minute one-on-one debate...

You know, it's not the dogmatic young earth stance of the group that was so memorable. That is still(and probably always will be...and, of course, they could well be right. Since no one living was there to witness it, we can't really know until that Day.) the most commonly accepted viewpoint in the Church. Nor is it the debate. Larry thrives on confrontation and debate. I've watched and admired him in action dozens of times, more often than not, as the silent partner, doing the research end of it behind the scenes and supplying him the facts of his case.

No, the sadly memorable thing about that evening was going into it thinking that for once we were going to be party to a discussion where we were uniquely qualified to participate, maybe even get people thinking in new directions(Alas, I'm nowhere near immune to insidious pride!)...and then watching in growing disillusionment, as the debate went on, people mentally zone out one by one until only the three of us were even following what was going on.

Sitting there, I pretty much came to the sad realization, for probably the millionth time, that, barring an act of God, that I(and probably Larry, too) just never will be understood by, nor truly accepted by churchfolk, not without lopping off huge parts of my character, personality, and giftings, becoming less than God intended me to be.(I thought momentarily of Mike Warnke's analogy of the cookie cutter Christians.) Sorta like when I was a kid with an off-the-scale extensive vocabulary and I had to 'dumb down' my words so that other kids could follow what I was saying.

Anyway, my ecclesiastical epithet collection is a large one. These are brief summaries of some of the ones I can recall off the top of my head. Some of them were applied to Larry(or, more rarely, other companions), as well as me. Others were bestowed on me alone. My intention in listing them is not to look for sympathy or to put my critics in a bad light. My critics are all co-laborers and joint-heirs of that stunning grace with me. I will have the honor of sharing Eternity with them one Day, when all our irrelevant differences fall away and only Truth and Love remain. My purpose is simply to present this list as my history of conflict within the church. Granted, my viewpoint is somewhat biased, but my perspective is the only one I truly have. If you were to talk to any of these people, they would likely have very different understandings(ones that paint me as far less reasonable than I tend to think of myself...and the truths of these matters are, undoubtedly, somewhere in between my perspectives and theirs) of the conversations and events in question...

I've been ridiculed by one pastor for believing in the existence of satan. Another referred me to a psychiatrist because I mentioned to him that I had a prayer language. I've been chastised for citing scripture at a Bible study. At one church I visited, the pastor pointed me out from the pulpit and condemned me in front of his entire congregation as a 'church tramp' for missing that morning's service at the church I belonged to. I've been rebuked for blowing my nose 'like a truckdriver.' At one church I was told I had to renounce my interest in sci-fi/fantasy and all secular music(here, they were referring, as a representative example, to the diabolical perfidy of Simon & Garfunkel. I shudder to contemplate their reaction if I had brought up Alan Parsons Project, Moody Blues, Tomita, Tom Lehrer, or Weird Al Yankovic) if I really wanted to follow Jesus. This same church admonished me for not being expressive enough in worship. Because I have a sense of humor and enjoy Christian comedians, I was told by yet another pastor that I 'wasn't a serious Christian.'('Salvation is NOT a laughing matter,' he pontificated.) I've been rebuked for dressing too casually, 'not as someone of whom the world is not worthy.' I've been referred to by someone in church leadership as a 'santa cruz hippie.' I've been called a 'negligent parent' for leaving my children in the care of friends while I sat in intensive care with Larry perched precariously between life and death on high-dose interleukin therapy. I have been accused of 'living in sin' for inviting homeless friends to live with us under our roof, for allowing them to stay longer than the accuser thought appropriate. I've been taken to task for 'stealing God's glory' by 'dressing inappropriately' and being too expressive in worship. I've been said to create 'negative energy' when I pray. And I've been disapproved of for participating in 'scandalous' parachurch ministries.

The overwhelming majority of the conflicts I've had over the years has been with people in leadership, or the inner circle of 'church pillars.' I've not had the same history of conflict with the non-leadership, non in-group people of the church. But, with few exceptions, I've never really been known and accepted by them, either. What I get is acquaintances. But they've almost invariably shied away at any of my attempts to get past the Sunday morning veneer and develop something more than a shallow, casual friendship.

In my early years in the Church, I would sign up for things at whatever church I was in at the time...only to be told time and again that it 'just wasn't God's leading'...that I 'wasn't suited to that particular area of service'...that there's 'nothing wrong with just being a part of the congregation.' Eventually, I stopped actively seeking to minister in official capacities at churches. I just figured that my calling, whatever it entails, must lie elsewhere. That if God wanted me in some official area of service, He'd put me there, as the consummate Opener and Closer of doors in my life.

So I was delighted to connect with a church where the pastor made a big deal of 'equipping the saints.' The ubiquitous new members' orientation class ended with one of those spiritual gift questionnaires and then everyone was given some sort of position in the church. I had, evidently, no musical talents or teaching abilities, was not outgoing enough to greet people or be an usher, and had absolutely no inclination to work in the children's ministry, so, by default, I was made an intercessor. Intercession at that church consisted of being given a weekly printed list of requests to pray for. Over the 5 years I was at that church, I was given maybe 3 to 5 of these weekly lists. I was somehow overlooked the other 250 or so weeks of my tenure there.

Other than that and my recent brief and apparently unsuccessful involvement with a food bank/intercessory prayer ministry(and, no, I didn't seek it on my own. Two of my closest friends dragged me there...and, to my amazement, I seemed to be well received there and to be doing some good and sensed God's leading me there) I've never been sought out for nor have I held any sort of position or title with any church I've been a part of. So much for the 'equipping of the saints' and all that First Corinthians 12 type interdependent body ministry.

The specific reasons given me in each instance for my being disapproved of/rebuked/chastised/rejected/considered unfit for service have always seemed so superficial, like things that should be either accepted as personal liberties or tolerated as the transient imperfections of a 'work in progress.' It is both a frustration and a bafflement that I can be dressed too casually according to one church and too 'glory stealingly' according to another. And similarly, worship too stoically by one group's standards, and too expressively for another congregation.(and, no, I'm not comparing Pentacostals and Baptists here.) And the greater why behind my lifetime of rejections and misfitness has been an elusive one.

Strange, the idea's never really occurred to me before, but I suppose if I try and look for a pattern, the epithets can mostly be put into two categories. The general breakdown is 2/3 to 3/4 that seem to be Apparent Heresies/Doctrinal Differences.(and it generally isn't that I expect others to espouse my viewpoints...How could I? With the notable exceptions of the non-negotiables of salvation, faith, and the sovereignty of God, my viewpoints are in constant flux.)...And the other 1/4 to 1/3 seem to be primarily due to Social Dysfunction/Disorganization.(concerning which, I'm constantly, though sometimes imperceptibly(sigh.), struggling to substitute healthy patterns for destructive ones)

So...I don't know. I spend my life skirting the hazy purgatorial peripheries of the Church...never quite belonging, but never quite able to walk away. Wanting to know acceptance, to serve in some way, to meet needs, to be Christ to others...and wanting to just be left alone, to just not hurt anymore.

Over the last year or so, I've read several books by Rick Joyner. By his supporters, he's called a prophet. He is, like me, not without his critics, but, in this life, who is? Still, from what I've read, he seems to me to be a man possessed of costly wisdom, uncommon vision and an unexcelled passion for the Church.

Rick Joyner's words on the unity of the Church in the last days, and particularly the section in The Harvest about the 'marvel of the ages,' (pp. 23-25)where he talks about a specific group of people, gifted with a vital ministry in the last days, who are "not in rebellion, and often grieving over it, these [believers] are usually out of harmony with much of the Church" really, really resonated with me. It would, no doubt, be terribly presumptuous of me to consider myself part of that group(My specific placement in the Body is God's business, not mine. Mine is simply to be where and what He wants me to be and to do the tasks He sets before me.) he refers to in that 'marvel of the ages' segment, but I've got to admit that one passage pretty accurately sums up my three decade relationship with the church. Put into that perspective, this lifetime of rejections and misfitness begins to almost make some sort of sense.

When Jesus came the first time, the established religion totally missed it. Missed it because, though He fulfilled dozens of Messianic prophecies, He did it in ways that were totally unforeseen. He didn't follow their carefully thought out, scripturally-based theological gameplan. Missed it because He was a Righteous Heretic. Missed it and zealously nailed Him to the cross. I have to wonder. What's really changed in the last two thousand years? Is today's mainstream Church(of which I am a part) so much more enlightened than the Pharisees and Sadducees of Jesus' day? Jesus, in describing the people of His day(a.k.a. mainstream religious community), quoted from Isaiah 6. He said their hearts were calloused, their ears almost deaf, their eyes, even worse than blind, deliberately shut. Could we in the Church be calloused, deafened, hands tightly clamped over our screwed-shut eyes, off on legalistic, doctrinal sidetracks, tangentially missing God's plan for the last days?...or, worse yet, the fullness of His plans for our lives? Could we be embracing the various truths we've come to believe so tightly that we've somehow let the one priceless Truth slip from our grasp?

I'm a black sheep. I only know that I am both called and chosen. The same, no more and no less, than the rest of His Flock. I know the Voice and the incomparable love of the Shepherd who calls me. I know that I am now, and am in the messy process of becoming even moreso, unashamedly precisely what God has designed me to be, giftings, talents, flaws, weaknesses, and all. I only know that I have no calling, no goal, no desire, no truth greater than to simply follow in the footsteps of the one Righteous Heretic, wherever that may lead me, though it cost me everything I hold precious, though it be the stony, thorny, bloody Way of Suffering.

And if you know these same things, then, maybe you're a black sheep, too.