There has been a stir in the progressive Christian community recently about the label “progressive” and what it means, since there are some on both the liberal and conservative ends of the spectrum who try to police the boundaries of what is progressive and what is Christian. Bloggers who are too liberal or agnostic in certain areas are chided or even attacked as not being Christian, while other bloggers are told that they are not progressive enough because they still hold to this or that belief associated with more conservative faith traditions.
As David Henson beautifully articulated last week, the gift of progressive Christianity is that it makes room at the table for people all along the spectrum of faith and doubt. However, policing from either side threatens to turn this diverse and inclusive community into another closed system that draws hard lines about who is in or out, who is Christian or not, and who gets a place at the table and a voice in the conversation.
This is worrisome for those of us who have come to progressive Christianity precisely because we have either been excluded (often painfully) from church communities or because we have naturally evolved away from fundamentalist systems of belief.
My own journey away from conservative evangelicalism began in college, and I consider myself lucky that when I was in grad school, I accidentally stumbled into a church where my spiritual evolution and growth were encouraged and accepted, rather than being kicked out of one because of that same process.
I have met enough recovering fundamentalists and evangelical rejects–folks who carry deep spiritual wounds from being ostracized by their church communities and even their own families–to be extremely grateful for my former church, Broadus Memorial Baptist Church, and my current one, Weatherly Heights Baptist Church (WHBC). I have had experiences of being marginalized as a woman and of being excluded or even insulted because of my theology (I wrote about one of those experiences here), but I am fortunate to have a community where I belong.
I have been planning to write something about WHBC for the blog in part because in creating “Prone to wander . . . lured by grace,” I have further co-opted WHBC’s beautiful rose window. I am going to digress a moment to talk about that before I come back and tie this thing together.
I think of the rose window, which symbolizes the presence of God in our sanctuary, as partially mine because back in 2013, I had an interpretation of it tattooed on my lower back, where I already had a dragonfly tattoo from about a dozen years earlier. Back when I decided to get that first tattoo, lower-back designs on women weren’t extremely common (at least not in my corner of the world) and had yet to earn the disparaging nickname “tramp stamp.” If I had anticipated that, I might have made a different choice!
But regardless of that, years later, after spending many contemplative moments of worship staring up at WHBC’s lovely window and finding God’s presence in the multi-colored beams of light pouring through the stained glass, I went under the needle again (with the fabulous Caroline at Blue Rose Tattoo) and emerged with what I joked to a friend was now a “glorified” tramp stamp.
I love the combination of the tattoos because of the way they join together the parts of who I am. The dragonfly simultaneously represents my origins (envision south Georgia summer evenings with dozens of dragonflies zipping through the dusk in the wide yard of my childhood) and my transformative journey away from those origins and into independence, into the courage that it takes to discard the expectations of others and simply and unapologetically be oneself.
The rose window, just as it does in our sanctuary, symbolizes the presence of God, but more than that, it symbolizes my openness to divine love and light and my hope that that light also shines through me and into our world. It represents the constancy of God’s grace and my aspiration to an ever more illuminated spiritual life. It also reminds me that being a Jesus-follower requires sacrifices of my time, my body, and my resources. It reminds me that this is a beautiful but costly, and sometimes painful, journey.
And that brings me back to my community, my fellow travelers.
In 2007, when I left my beloved Broadus Memorial Baptist Church to follow my career to Alabama, I worried whether I could find another church that would support me and my journey, and where my contributions would be accepted and valued. I knew that after finding a real spiritual home, I would not be able to thrive in a community where I would have to keep my head down and my thoughts to myself for fear of being reprimanded or rejected.
When I browsed churches online, I was immediately drawn in by WHBC’s tagline: “An inclusive, discovering fellowship,” by the highly visible presence of female leadership in the church, and by the language of the vision statement: “heartfelt Biblical faith,” “intellectual integrity,” “social justice,” “genuinely care for one another,” and so on.
Over the last seven years or so, WHBC has more than lived up to that original impression. It has been a place where my evolving and at times even faltering faith has been affirmed, renewed, and expanded. It has been a place where I have found essential mentors and faithful friends. It has been a place, most importantly, where I have found a true sense of belonging.
And the most beautiful thing is that I don’t belong at WHBC simply because everyone else there is as progressive, intellectual, liberal, feminist, and tattooed as I am, because they aren’t.
I belong because the WHBC community values unity over uniformity.
Because we scoot over our chairs to make room at the table for someone who is perhaps not entirely like ourselves.
Because we respect the faith journeys of others even when they don’t follow the same path as our own.
Because our ministers respect our individuality and recognize that we all come to faith in unique ways and bring valuable perspectives and talents to the table.
Because we genuinely love and care for each other and our larger community.
WHBC is my community, a place where I fit . . . glorified tramp stamp and all.
I thank God for my church, and I pray for those who have been rejected from communities and have subsequently left the faith and for those who can only find the acceptance of fellow Christians via the internet because the churches in their area have not welcomed them (or worse, have actively rejected them) because of any number of factors–from physical appearance to sexual orientation to theological nitpicking.
Here at the end of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, my prayer is twofold. First, I pray that every person seeking an authentic spiritual community will find one where his or her whole person is welcomed and accepted, because when we belong, and when we are able to be true to ourselves and vulnerable to those around us, that is when true community and exists and true transformation is possible.
Second, I pray that both in churches and online, all Christians–most especially those who claim the label progressive–will step up to the task of making room at the table for everyone who desires a place there.
Let us all come to the table to break bread together.
Let us fill each other’s cups.
Let us not only say grace, but give and receive it freely.
There is more than enough to go around.
*My thanks to our guest minister for today, Rev. Christie Ashton from Hope Presbyterian Church for providing some of the inspiration for this blog post, and my thanks and love to all of my BMBC and WHBC friends who may be reading along!
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