Outlandish Virtue: What Would You Name Yourself If You Were a Quaker?

In Diana Gabaldon's latest novel in the Outlander series, Go Tell the Bees That I am Gone, the Fraser family attends a Quaker meeting. There, they discuss the kinds of names Quakers choose for their children--names like Patience, Charity, and Prudence. Historically, Quakers named their offspring after virtues that they wanted the children to embody.  In the book, they asked the question, what would you call yourself, if you named yourself after a virtue?

The apostle Saul (named after Israel's first king, a giant of a man) changed his name to Paul, which means "small."  It seems that he wanted to offset his lofty call to ministry with a humble name.

Paul's friend Joseph changed his name (or had it changed for him) to Barnabas, which means "Son of Encouragement."  It's no question what virtue he wanted to embody.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, God changed the name of Sarai (meaning "She who Strives") to Sarah-- "Princess."  It seems she took her position as mother of a nation quite literally!

Not everybody has to change their name, to be named after a virtue.  When I was young, I learned that my name, Gregory, means the nouns "Protector" and "Watchman," as well as the adjectives, "Vigilant" and "Fierce."  I always took that to heart.  Both as a pastor and now as a case manager, I have seen myself as a guardian of other people.  So I didn't have to change my name in order to be named after a virtue.  Knowing my name had a virtuous meaning was significant in my self-understanding.  If I could pick any virtuous name, it would probably be exactly what it already is.  

So, what would you call yourself, if you could change your name to reflect any virtue?  Would you be Piety, or Holiness, or Constance?  Maybe Welcome or Assistance or Selflessness? If by changing your name you could shift your focus, what would you become?  What Virtue do you hold most dear, and what would you do, to embody that character trait even more in your life?

I Peter 1:5-7 ESV says,"...Make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love."  Make every effort, Paul says.  What if you placed your foremost virtue so prominently in your mind that it became as familiar to you as your own name?  You become what you focus on the most, so pretty soon you would become that outlandish virtue, and it would become you.  

Jesus must have thought that names were important--so he chose to be called Immanuel, or "God With Us."  Whether you change your name or not, the question remains--how do you want to be known?  By living out your ultimate virtue, you create a legacy that will outlast you.  If your goal is to be like Jesus, you'll want people to see a bit of God when they look at you.

When the Wrecking Ball Hits Your Faith

"Hello, my name is Kevin Max, and I'm an #exvangelical."  That was the tweet from the DC Talk and now independent musician whose Christian music I've listened to since I was a teenager.  In Max's debut as an #exvangelical, he announced that he is deconstructing his faith.  (Read more in this article from the Christian Post.)  In essence, the singer is demolishing what he's always been taught so he can rebuild his faith in a way that makes sense to him.  (Cue the gasps from all the Sunday school teachers.)
  
You might think that deconstructing is the absolute opposite of what a Christian ought to do.  I mean, Jesus talked about the wise man building his house on the rock, not tearing it down.  But sometimes you've got to deconstruct something that's falling down, in order to build something stronger.  In the Christian Post article, Kevin Max discusses what no longer works for him--and the new faith he's found by tearing down what's broken.  It seems these days, a lot of people are doing the same thing.

According to a Gallup finding published in March of this year, membership in houses of worship in the United States has now dipped below 50%.  The article says, "U.S. church membership was 73% when Gallup first measured it in 1937 and remained near 70% for the next six decades, before beginning a steady decline around the turn of the 21st century."  For regular church attenders, this isn't shocking news.  We have seen radical decline in our own churches, and blamed everything from Rock and Roll music to baseball.  But maybe the change isn't from outside influences.  Many are beginning to deconstruct what they've been taught, because they've discovered the foundations are built on sand instead of stone.

"House on the Sand (Matthew :7:24-27) (EXPLORED)" by Redeemed & Forgiven is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

As one body, Sunday school teachers clasp their hands to their mouths, aghast that their students may be questioning their catechism and Lifeway lessons.  We've been taught not to question, not to challenge what we've been taught--but what if that advice is more for control than anything else?  What if they are really just trying to keep you from deconstructing Potemkin's village?

Russian Empress Catherine the Great toured poverty-stricken Crimea in 1787.  According to legend, the governor of that region, Grigory Potemkin, erected phony villages along her route, populated with happy, well-fed people who were actually brought in from central Russia.  Though this story is dubious, today the term Potemkin village refers to any real or metaphorical facade, meant to deceive people into believing that things are better than they are.  When my Sunday school teacher taught me not to question my faith, she was hoping that like Catherine the Great, I would ccontinue to see the shiny facade instead of the crumbling building underneath.

Many Christians never get beyond the "Sunday school answers" that they've been taught.  I'm grateful to my seminary professors for encouraging me to think, question, pray, and investigate, rather than blindly accepting everything I learned at church.  Because not everything my pastors told me was true.  Today, it seems a lot of good folks are questioning religious assumptions they've held for years.  They're realizing that they've built their house on sand instead of stone.  But instead of waiting for the next storm to blow it down, people like Kevin Max are intentionally deconstructing their faith in order to build something stronger, and on a better foundation.

In Matthew 7:24-27 (NIV), Jesus says:

 “...Everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”

Mostly, I've heard it preached that the sandy ground represents the either doubt, or the unstable things of this world, while the solid foundation is a rock-solid belief system.  But Jesus is clear that stability comes from putting into practice his teachings.  It's not about adherence to doctrines--it's trying to live and love like Jesus that prevents the crash.  Too many church leaders would have you believe that the solid rock is theology, but it's not.  It's Jesus himself.  Unfortunately, there are a lot of righteous-looking, religious things that feel like bedrock, but are really sand.  Sometimes you've got to deconstruct the things that appear solid, in order to find the rot underneath.

"Wrecking Ball" by Editor B is licensed under CC BY 2.0

People like Kevin Max are deconstructing things like:

• Original sin;
• The virgin birth;
• Christian exclusivism;
• Miracles (biblical as well as modern);
• The inspiration, inerrancy, or infallibility of Scripture;
• The closed canon of the Protestant or Catholic Bible;
• The existence of a literal hell, and the judgment of God that puts people there;
• Penal substitutionary atonement;
• Conservative teachings on "Biblical understandings on marriage, sexuality, and gender";
• Popular apocalyptic teachings from eschatological writings of the Bible;
• The Church's participation in promoting racism, sexism, patriarchy, capitalism, slavery, genocide, and empire-building;
• The Church's historical role as an exploiter of the environment, rather than a keeper of the earth.

I'm sure I've left out some important ones--but these will just get the wrecking ball swinging.  Maybe you've been struggling with some of these yourself.  And, like Jacob, you've left the wrestling match with a permanent limp.  You've walked out of church and sworn never to come back.  Or, you've remained in the church because of obligations or community, even though you're convinced you're not going to find what you need there.  If that's so, let me encourage you.  

First, God loves you.  Maybe you still follow Jesus but no longer use the word "Christian."  Or, you've been so hurt or confused that you don't know what you believe anymore.  You might have found a different religion altogether.  Perhaps you're "spiritual, but not religious."  Regardless, I want you to know that God still loves you.  No matter whether you talk about your Higher Power, or the Universe, or Ultimate Reality, or Buddha Nature, or Allah-- the God who is Love continues to surround you, embrace you, and enjoy your company.  

Second, it's okay that you're deconstructing.  Better to do it now, than wait til the storm blows your house down.  One of the best things I ever did was to go point by point through my denomination's statement of faith, and rewrite it accordintg to what I actually believe, rather than accepting what was handed to me.  Once I tore out the rotten roof, floor boards, sheet rock, and even some of the studs, I found the strong foundation that remained, so I could build again.  And so can you.  It doesn't mean that you're lost--it means you're thinking.  And God likes it when we use our brains.

Third, you're not alone.  Whether your faith is changing or whether you've given up on religion altogether, there are others who are either in the same spot, or who have been there before.  There are people of faith to welcome and affirm you, who refuse to abuse, who are safe, who encourage.  Seek out those churches, those safe people.  Below, I want to give a few resources for you, if you're looking for some guidance or community.

• I'd love to talk with you!  Leave a comment, fill in the contact form to the right of this post, or email me at revgregsmith@gmail.com.
• Read authors who represent the Emerging Church, a movement of openness and inclusion that values good questions over having all the right answers.  I suggest books by Brian McLaren, Greg Boyd, N.T. Wright, Marcus Borg, Carlton Pearson, Henri Nouwen, Nadia Bolz-Weber, Dan Kimball, Matthew Vines, Andrew Farley, Bruxy Cavey, John Pavlovitz, Doug Hammack, and Richard Rohr.  
• Talk with openminded people who will listen nonjudgmentally and encourage your questions.  Listen to those who have also deconstructed their faith, and built something stronger when they were done.
• Leave spiritually abusive churches.  Spiritually abusive churches and leaders tell you what you MUST believe.  They discourage free thought, asking questions, and exploration.  For them, it's either their way or the highway.  The best thing to do in this case is to choose the highway.  Only by hitting the road can you take the journey to find the good foundation where you can build again.
• Be prepared to experience grief.  David Hayward offers a course in dealing with the sense of loss associated with changing beliefs, recognizing that while deconstruction is a healthy thing, it is also a painful thing.  I hope you'll explore his entire website, as he makes deconstruction his full-time focus..  

Recently, I drove past a familiar restaurant where the management had posted a sign that read, "Closed for renovation."  But behind the sign there was no restaurant--only a pile of rubble.  Maybe your foundation is so bad that you don't need a reno project--you need a spiritual demolition.  It's safer to tear it apart yourself than to wait til it's full of people and the storm knocks it down.  When the wrecking ball hits your faith, when you can strip it down to the ground and rebuild on a solid foundation.