Cynicism . . .

It's an ugly charge, and certainly one worth considering when leveled against you--but is it always accurate? For example, I have written (and will continue to write) a wide array of scathing criticisms of church politics, church procedures, and church prejudices . . . but does that mean I'm being cynical?

No.

It means I'm frustrated, and I'm highly demanding, given the example Jesus Christ himself set--as ridiculous as it may sound, I hold out hope that people who take on the name of Christ will also gain the capacity to take on the attributes of Christ (and in case you're wondering, yes that does include the miraculous). I've seen this standard met by believers in my own life (and these are people I've known more than superficially--these are people who have been dear friends of mine and of my family), so I find it hard to comprehend why the church as a whole (in the United States) finds it acceptable to fall short of this standard. This frustration, this passion, this bitter disappointment, is what has driven a large majority of my disillusionment with Christianity, with my own spiritual journey, and with church doctrine, practices, and beliefs.

This isn't cynicism, my friend--it's justified outrage.

I get so sick of people like me, who have legitimate issues with conservative Christianity (or Christianity in general), being told we're simply a bunch of numbskulls launching potshots at God's exalted bride--that we're too busy "whining" to "participate" and "offer solutions". We're castigated as "cynics," dismissed as "irrelevant", or branded as enemies or troublemakers.

I'd like to ask the ones responsible for the name-calling and accusations to answer one question: why do you think church attendance is weakening in the United States? (Hint: It's not because people are less interested in the welfare of their souls today than they used to be.)

Cat got your tongue?

I have a few possible answers, suggested in the following vignettes:

1. A few months ago, a church I had been attending for 6 years disbanded. It was (or should have come as) no surprise, but it was sad. Despite the best efforts of some of the parishioners (including me), the congregation could not rise above its own internal conflicts.

2. Shortly after that, another congregation in the DFW area expelled someone I knew, simply because she and their senior pastor (who was single) liked each other. (Personally, and I will go on record here--that quite possibly ranks as the dumbest reason to expel someone from a congregation that I have ever heard.)

3. Another friend of mine (this one lives in Pennsylvania) has run into criticism after criticism because he is (1) in his early 40s and (2) not married yet. (Jeez, I didn't know that was a crime . . . )

4. In all the church environments I have worshipped in (including the very loving, healthy church I am part of now), I have never . . . and I mean, never . . . felt comfortable talking about my experiences and history with transexuality.

Do you think I'm alone in having these issues and complaints?

My friend, I am one of many people who have similar histories and similar stories to share--there are, in fact, millions of us. Are we all wrong? Are we all victims of "bitterness" and "cynicism"?



Are we all dismissable?



In closing, I have a reply to all of the people out there who stereotype me and others like me as cynics and casual outsiders. It is a simple message most of us will recognize as a cultural axiom:

If you are not part of the solution, then you are part of the problem.