No Experience Is Better Than False Experience (Guest Post)
July 2, 2010

Following is a guest post from my Kiwi friend, Jonathan Elliot, who writes about faith and being a friendly agnostic at Spritzophrenia.wordpress.com.

***

I’d like to tell my story of not being slain in the spirit.

I spent a fair bit of time in spirit-filled practice when I was a student, attended a charismatic church and worked closely with Pentecostals in our campus christian group.  I can still speak in tongues on demand, if you want me to. At the time, a pentecostal ministry ran a revival week in a huge tent out in the countryside. I’ll let the cynical among us note the appropriateness of using a circus tent for such events.  They brought a number of apparently-big-name preachers in from overseas and one of them was a clean-cut young man who was surely not even thirty years old. I’ll call him Redfords LaGrange. God had allegedly been talking to him since he was seven years old, and he’d made a study of “God’s Generals,” famous spirit-fooled preachers.

Standing at the rear of some 1500 people, I listened to him. On another night I’d heard Redfords exhort the whole crowd to voluntarily speak in tongues at the top of their lungs.  I felt uncomfortable with this, mainly for what I felt were Scriptural reasons. It also seemed kinda stupid and I quietly left to stand in the dark field and pray. As the roar of the crowd behind me surged, I could hear the cry from the poor folk trying to sleep in a distant farmhouse: “SHUuuuuuuuuT UuuuP!” This rather amused me, especially since they actually used more colorful language.

Anyway, on the night in question Redfords LaGrange called for those engaged in youth ministry up the front; he was going to pray for them. I walked up the long aisle into the spotlights along with about 50 others and we stood in a line along the front.  Now, when you’ve got 50 people to pray for individually and you’re a preacher with no time to spare, you have to kind of rush along the line and spend about 15 seconds with each person.  You don’t have time to even ask the person’s name. As Redfords was coming, I prayed “God, I’m open to anything you want to do. Do anything you want to me. Make me fall over if you want, only please let it be you and not psychology.”  I’d been praying that all the way down the aisle too. Let me say, I was very sincere about both things.  I wanted a touch, but only if it was real.

I knew falling over was likely, as that tended to happen in these kind of meetings. I always preferred to call it “falling over”, as the term “slain in the spirit” is not one found in scripture. The cynical can point to the story of Ananias and Sapphira, who were slain BY the Spirit.  I doubt anyone wants to recreate that experience.

Indeed, as Redfords came down the line, I saw people falling over out of the corner of my eye. “Catchers” ran forward to make sure they didn’t hit the ground too hard. Many of us already had catchers standing behind us in advance. If it’s an experience from God, I always wondered why he would allow you to be hurt?

Redfords LaGrange reached me and prayed, his hand gently on my head. I didn’t sense any physical pressure from him, I was alert to being pushed.  He prayed kindly and briefly, and moved on.  Did I sense him hesitate when I didn’t collapse? I stayed there praying, slowly realising that out of the whole line, I was the only one who hadn’t fallen over.  Maybe I was resisting the spirit, maybe my intellect had made me hard-hearted. But I know I was sincere. I just didn’t want it to be weak buckling at the knees under the influence of emotion, tiredness or peer pressure.

Mark Vernon migrated from christian clergy to atheist, and now calls himself an “agnostic christian”. He’s an advocate of silence and
not-knowing. Vernon says it’s important to draw a clear line between silence and an experience of ecstasy.

There is an emphasis on experiencing ecstasy in much contemporary churchgoing. This is Christianity that is authenticated by some kind of peak experience, from speaking in tongues, to being healed, to seeing a statue move.  Typically, the experience is noisy, demonstrative and, qua the experience, often barely distinguishable from a bungee jump or druggy high.  But this is Christianity as psychological buzz; its passion is no more than emotion.  It’s aims may be valid – happiness, satisfaction, belonging – but they eclipse the goal of spirituality, at least according to [Meister] Eckhart, which is that of sacred ignorance. For the pursuers of pure experience, the unknown is regarded suspiciously.  They substitute the language of personal fulfillment for the language of … doubt.” –After Atheism, p 120.

So what do I make of this? As it happens, in the course of many other meetings I’ve never fallen over. I’m not a hater; I believe that if God was there, then my prayer was honored. I also have a funny feeling that at least some of those people fell over because they felt they had to, or look unspiritual in front of the audience. Have you ever felt left out when others all seemed to be getting blessed? What did you make of it?

Again, check out Jonathan’s blog at Spritzophrenia.wordpress.com.

My Swarm Theory
April 19, 2010

This post is in response to an invite from my friend Julie Clawson to be part of a synchroblog with many others that attempts to answer, “What is emerging in the church?”

I think the church is starting to realize it’s okay to embody what is known as swarm theory, or SI (swarm intelligence). We are beginning to see the value of “all” instead of “me.” We are beginning to see that there is a greater, undefinable, all-encompassing, all-accepting power guiding us (even if none of us know where we’re going).

The biggest objection to the idea that intentionally submitting oneself to a collective (sub)consciousness is that some think this devalues humanity. They may think this flies in the face of the entire Christian thesis that God gave us each free will. If I may call it spiritual swarm theory, I would say flatly that it does not at all erase free will; it enhances it.

What is emerging in the church is a deep listening that doesn’t listen selectively according to a person’s appearance, preferences, or even beliefs. It listens to the person. It listens to that still, small voice inside that person. That voice that speaks to us all from within us all. And that’s what moves us.

_____

Case in Point

Someone who calls himself an “agnostic pentecostal” has been invited to share his thoughts about what they think is emerging in the church. Yes, I am a middle-class, white, straight male, which is definitely not a minority in terms of church leadership. But I have no Ph.D; I am no pastor; I have chosen not to be ordained; I don’t have a book published or a TV program or an album or even a popular blog. Those facts, combined with the fact that I’m just barely a Christian at all according to traditional definitions, would have eliminated me from having a real, valued leadership role in the church. In fact, for some churches, the fact that I come from a pentecostal-type background might even scare some away from me.

So to have been invited to share my voice illustrates my point about what good I think is happening in the church: The entire concept of “leadership” is being redefined, albeit slowly. And this is creating a movement of listening. A movement that’s trying hard to see all stories as equally valuable. A movement that sees importance in being led by the rejected as much as (or more than) the selected.

There is a difference between inviting the rejected into your circle and letting them lead it. As another example, the church of the past, as I call it, would welcome a gay person into their church as long as that person would join a group or class designed to straighten them out. The statement I heard in several sermons was, “God loves you just the way you are — but too much to let you stay that way.” But I am seeing proof that churches are taking seriously the notion that keeps it simple with just, “God loves you just the way you are. That’s it. Nothing else to add. No classes to take before you’re really welcome. You are welcome. Now please tell us your story so we can learn from you.” This is happening in my faith community.

And it’s not just a liberal thing…Tolerance is not just for universalists anymore. It’s not just tolerance either; it’s true acceptance. I think people are starting to see that they can keep their conservative beliefs, without watering them down, share those beliefs, and also find value in the spirituality of others. Because we’re all in the same swarm.

In my case, I feel there’s no need for compromise in being simultaneously agnostic and pentecostal. I can pray in tongues if I want, even if I doubt, for example, that Jesus was the product of a literal virgin birth. And the best part is that I feel supported by (some of) my Christian friends…They’re not only okay with that, but they don’t try to change my view, and they listen intently to see exactly what the full story might be, so they can learn and exchange perspectives.

They see me as a valuable part of a grander story, and I see them the same. We want to learn from each other. Because we’ve started to listen to a still, small voice that tells us that none of us has the whole story, but all of us are an integral to it.

_____

By the Way

Some may see this all as a sign that pluralism, extreme liberalism, and even communism are seeping into the church. I choose to see this as a sign that people are just starting to realize that things cannot seep into or out of the church, because we are all the Church. We are all in this together. And “We” has no walls. Some may see this as a sign that incorrect beliefs are causing God’s presence to leave certain churches. To that I say people are starting to remember that God is omnipresent. He’s always with us. Nothing can separate us from his love. Similarly, some may say that God being present in only certain churches is due to the fact that, according to scripture, “God inhabits the praises of his people,” and that only some are praising him correctly, and only those who do so correctly can truly be called “his people.” I choose to believe that there is no wrong way to praise God, and that all people are God’s people.

_____

Check out these other synchroblog posts on this topic:

Sharon Brown writes about using labels as an excuse. * Pam Hogeweide compares the emerging church movement to a game of ping pong. * Sarah-Ji comments that the emerging questions people are asking are far bigger than any defined movement. * Peter Walker reflects on how the emerging church conversation helped him recognize his power and privlege as a white male. * Dave Huth posts a on new ways to talk about religion. * Kathy Escobar finds hope in seeing a spirit of love in action emerging in the church. * Nadia Bolz-Weber reflects on the the beautiful things she sees emerging in her church community. * Chad Holtz writes on our Our Emerging Jewishness. * MojoJules describes her organic entry into the emerging church and reflects on moving forward with a new public face. * Danielle Shoyer reflects on what is emerging in the church. * Brian Merritt offers his pros and cons of the emerging church. * Julie Clawson is grateful for emerging globalized Christianity. * Susan Philips points out that emergence happens as G-d redeems our shattered realities. * Mike Clawson reflects on the non-western voices that brought him to the emerging conversation. * Jake Bouma suggest that what is emerging is a collapse into simplicity. * Liz Dyer believes a chastened epistemology is a valuable characteristic emerging out of the church today. * Rachel Held Evans writes on what is changing in the church. * Tia Lynn Lecorchick describes the emerging movement as a wood between worlds (from The Magician’s Nephew). * Amy Moffitt shares her journey towards a theology of humility. * Travis Mamone comments on the need for the emerging church to rely on the word of God. * Sa Say reflects on the the prick of doubt. * David Henson lists what he sees as what is emerging in the church. * Angela Harms writes in in defense of emergent. * Wendy Gritter asks how we can listening to the voices from the margins. * Bruce Epperly comments on the largeness of spirit of emerging spirituality. * Linda Jamentz reflects on listening to the voices from the margins in church. * Lisa Bain Carlton hopes that our emerging conversation can respond humbly to our moment in time. * Christine Sine asks how far are we willing to be transformed.

Two Ways to Use a Drug
February 8, 2010

Read the context in which an oft-cited quote is set:

Religious distress is at the same time the expression of real distress and the protest against real distress. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is required for their real happiness. The demand to give up the illusion about its condition is the demand to give up a condition which needs illusions.

Karl Marx, Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right

Opiate Use #1:

When I saw news clips of earthquake-wracked Haitians worshiping in the streets, I was touched by a glimpse of the good that religion can do for the collective soul of humanity. Yes, I agree with Marx that it is indeed in at least one sense the “opium of the people,” and I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying that. We often have  used this quote from Marx in a purely negative sense. That’s why I’ve posted the full quote above. (For more context, check out this article.) In light of his context, and considering a rudimentary knowledge of counseling principles (even Christian counseling), it really does make sense, and it’s not really as big of a slam against religion as people think.

I’m usually the first to criticize religion for being that opiate that just dumbs people down, serves as a catch-all for the pains of life, and prevents people from progressing emotionally because it helps them refuse to accept the reality of their situation. It’s something used to escape the obligation of living in reality. At least I see this a lot in the word-of-faith tradition that I come from.

But I have to catch myself from being too cynical about it, and situations of mass suffering certainly cause me to check my cynicism at the door. Of course, mass suffering continues daily throughout the world and I too often forget that, but when scenes like those from Haiti (either pre- or post earthquake) make their way into our cloistered American consciousness, it reminds me that sometimes we really hit rock bottom in life. (BTW, you really should check out this article from America’s Finest News Source.) Sometimes we have absolutely nothing to lean on. Zero distractions from unbearable pain. No one or nothing to turn to for help, and it’s impossible to run away, figuratively or literally.

These are the times when the best in the heart of religion comes out. When suffering people only have two choices: Gather together and help each other or die. That’s when some choose to gather and sing the few songs they have in common, the songs that have been faithfully passed down from those determined saints that I sometimes arrogantly call narrow-minded. And usually those songs have something to do with a power that is beyond this world. Beyond the pain. But I think it’s not really religion itself that’s serving as the opiate here. It’s the soothing balm of holy energy, purity, righteousness, whatever you want to call it, and it’s far bigger than any religion. But still I can see why it’s easier for Marx and others to just call it religion.

But anyway, if this sort of power that gives people a reason to gather is called an opiate, I’m okay with that. It truly is giving them a sense of relief from suffering, a determination to survive, a purpose that helps them rise from the rubble…and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. These people have subjected themselves to the power of the opiate of spirituality, I think, for one of its intended purposes. To bring people together to help each other and find relief from pain. It’s truly a beautiful thing that makes my soul leap and say, “That’s truth! God is in that!” And that’s a good use of a drug.

Now contrast that with this…

Opiate Use #2

(The first minute or so gives you the idea…)

Keep in mind that these are not at all isolated incidents or rare happenings of some backwoods group. These guys are real ministers who call themselves “new mystics;” they are authors, with a significant budget who travel the world sharing their message of “drunken glory,” toking baby Jesus, snorting Bible lines, injecting the blood of Christ, dropping Jesus tabs, trancing out in the glory of God, etc. They also pride themselves in doing “buzz evangelism,” in which they offer a “free buzz” to people and try to share God’s power with others on the street. I’ll probably write more about this later on, because I do have some past experience with this sort of thing.

But for now let’s put aside any and all theological arguments and even assume that these are really sincere good guys trying to do good. (BTW: You really should check out their “Pee Pee Miracle” with a suffering Indonesian man). Anyway, they do seem to be good guys, but I still have to make one simple observation: To me, all this is merely taking the idea of “the opiate of the masses” to another level… But still, in my view, if God wants to somehow touch me by letting me see some amazing acts of spiritual power, I think he knows that I am much more touched by seeing suffering Haitians coming together to sing songs than by seeing some hip ministers getting whacked out in the name of God. In my opinion, this does not seem to be the intended use for the opiate of the masses.

To me, it’s like the difference between being administered a drug by a caring hand versus being sold a drug that’s been manufactured in a barn, mixed in with additives and distributed on the streets by people just trying to build their business. People end up with a nasty hangover when they wake up to reality. Or even like a bad acid trip. They say never trip alone; a good opiate is meant to be taken in community…and from personal experience, I can attest to that. Don’t just take something cause it’s given to you free, and especially don’t do it alone. Things can get all messed up really quick. Next thing you know you’re looking in the mirror and snakes start writhing out of your eyes. But I digress 😉

Anyway, that’s just me, and I just know what seems right to me. What do you think? How do you use your religion? Do you see it as an opiate in any meaning of the word? Is that a bad thing?

Circles and Boxes
January 27, 2010

This is in fact how many people see it…

A couple years ago I reviewed David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons’ book, UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity and Why it Matters. In it the Christian researchers give statistics attesting to the realities of Christianity’s image problem and the reasons behind it. Importantly, they add that Christians must realize that the negative sentiments “outsiders” express are not merely because they are critical, or even “deceived.” These sentiments are the result of personal experience with Christian family or friends.

They also note that Christians should “avoid being defensive about the culture’s push to remove Christianity’s power in society,” and that “if the enormous number of Christians in this country has not achieved the level of positive influence hoped for, it’s not the fault of a skeptical culture.” In fact, they add that young Christians themselves are hesitant to raise the Christian flag because they too see Christianity as embarrassingly judgmental, confusing, insensitive, too involved in politics, out of touch with reality, hypocritical, and anti-homosexual, to name a few.

Some of the stats include:

  • Percentage of young non-Christians (“Outsiders,” ages 16-29) who see Christians as judgmental: 87% …Same question for churchgoers of the same age: 52%
  • …anti-homosexual > Outsiders: 91% …Churchgoers: 80%
  • …not accepting of other faiths > Outsiders: 64% …Churchgoers: 39
  • …out of touch with reality > Outsiders 72% …Churchgoers: 32%
  • …insensitive > 70% … Churchgoers: 29%

My purpose here is not to smear Christians or call out facts that many already know. It’s just to reiterate the point that any religious group that defines itself by what it must abstain from will obviously be defined that way by others…by what the group is against, not for. Now, I know that many Christians are trying to get beyond this; I have pastor friends who are working incredibly hard to simply offer love and healing to people. And I know that many Christians would say that they in fact really define themselves by what they are for: God’s grace, the principles of love taught by Jesus, intimacy with the holy spirit…all positive things.

But when one examines the qualifications of those things, it becomes apparent that the religion really does define itself by what it excludes more than what it accepts. An example… The benefit: Christians believe in the power of God’s all-encompassing grace which is available to all. The qualifications: “Jesus said that no man can go to the father except through him, the son (Jesus),” so no one is allowed to truly experience God’s grace unless he/she believes that 1) Jesus is God’s son 2) Jesus was born of a virgin 3) Jesus died on the cross and that process served as the only possible substitutionary atonement (payment) for the penalty of sin passed down from Adam 4) Jesus resurrected from the dead 5) Proclaim all these beliefs publicly 6) Be baptized (this may or may not count as the public proclamation) 7) Be filled with the holy spirit (preferably with the evidence of speaking in tongues, depending on denomination) … and I could add more, but I’ll stop at 7 because that’s God’s number. 😉 The theological explanation for this says that God’s grace is “sufficient but not efficient.” In other words, it’s power is based on the condition of our choice to accept it [on the terms given us by the church, to which Jesus gave all authority when he left earth].

So the circle of inclusion quickly gets smaller and smaller, the number of “acceptable” fewer and fewer. And don’t forget that, according to Christian teaching, “In the last days there will be a great ‘falling away,'” in which many Christians will become deceived themselves and will “backslide” and fall out from under the covering of God’s grace. So the circle gets smaller still. And all this makes me wonder if God’s grace, according to religion, really is all that powerful.

I choose to believe that it is, but the only time we get the picture of graceful inclusion is when a preacher is trying to “pull in the net” during an emotional altar call, or call for salvation. And this is what enforces the negative salesman image of preachers…Get in as many as you can without telling them the details of the deal. “Grace is the free gift of God for all,” it is said. “…Except…oh by the way…just sign here…”

So what’s my solution? I suggest that God’s grace is bigger than religion, bigger than Christianity, bigger than whatever box we humans try to fit God in, and yes, maybe even bigger than our ability to reject it. But I think that when we think we’re rejecting “God” we’re really just rejecting the notions of God that we’ve been taught.

This past Sunday at Journey we talked about the labels we put on God. And we had an illustration at the end of the gathering: A light box was up front. But the light was having a hard time illuminating the room because the clear side of it was covered with numerous strips of tape, so the light was very dim, only enough to let you see the overlapping lines of the tape strips. The strips were all the labels we put on God, maybe things like, “male” or “white” or “patriarchal” or even “Christian” or whatever. But at the end of the discussion we all lined up and one by one walked to the box. We each pulled a strip of tape off the clear front of the box, and with each removed piece of tape more light shined through. First a small shaft of light pierced through a split in the tape. Then another. Then another. Then light was getting more intense as it burst through all but a few strips around the border, and those got peeled off until the light emanated powerfully from inside the box and lit up most of the place.

I saw this and thought, “Maybe we should try to let God speak for himself.”

I know that’s hard because then who is to say that voice is verifiably that of God according to whatever criteria we come up with. Because even though the words touched the person who heard them and that person is better because of whatever they heard and however they heard it…even if it was through a tree growing beside a waterfall or a young man being nice to an old lady or a cartoon on YouTube…We must then gather a committee and debate and make sweeping proclamations and whoever has the best argument wins. After all, that’s how we got the Bible, aka, God’s Word.

There must be a better way, or as some like to say, another world is possible. I think God’s word, and God’s grace, is bigger than us. Bigger than all our little circles and boxes, no matter how nice we dress them up.

Three Lives, Part 3: Oral Roberts (really?)
January 9, 2010

Oral with Elvis

It had been more than a decade since I last laid foot on the Oral Roberts University campus. I drove to Tulsa to visit some old friends, and while I was there I’d stop by the ORU library to return some *slightly* overdue books — 13 years overdue to be exact. As soon as I got into town I went straight to the library, dropped the books in the return slot in one stealth move and quickly shuffled off to wander around campus.  I made my way to Christ Chapel, where odd things like this frequently occurred (quite interesting from 3:45-5:00) —

And I was in Christ Chapel when other thing like this messed with me:

It was in Christ Chapel that I experienced a variety of moments that totally confused me, caused me to lose faith and feel spiritually inadequate, and even some moments of peace, so to say the place caused great tension in my life is an understatement. Christ Chapel at ORU was the birthplace of my doubt.

So as I sauntered up to the back doors of the chapel, I felt the tension coming back. I had grown and changed a lot since I was last there, but still the confused feelings from my college days flooded my mind. I paused at the 15-feet-tall doors and accepted the fact that they would probably be locked because it was summer and the campus was nearly empty. But something compelled me to grab the massive handle and tug on one door. It was unlocked. I pulled the door open just a crack and….

This is a weird piece to write because my thoughts are so conflicted. Let’s get back to Oral for a second. (If you’re not familiar with him, this 2-minute vid summarizes his controversial life and you can read how he’s relevant to my blog in my Definitions page under “Charismatic.”) It’s well-known that Oral was no stranger to controversy, and it’s no stretch to say he was narcissistic. It seems to me his ministry started out with sincere and loving intentions and a passion for helping people, but as he grew in popularity I think yes-men surrounded him, his ego swelled, and although his ministry impacted the world (for good or bad) his own world apparently included few more than himself. One notorious 1988 occasion had him locking himself in his Prayer Tower, which was sort of the epicenter of the campus and his ministry, and telling the world that God would kill him unless he raised millions of dollars (which he did).

Oral was one of if not the original televangelist, one of the first “faith-healers,” one of the fathers of the “prosperity gospel,” and the first person to effectively bring Pentecostalism beyond the realm of toothless Appalachian snake-handlers and into mainstream consciousness. He hosted people like Elvis, multiple presidents including JFK, and other mainstream celebrities on his show and on campus, and he garnered respect from thousands for his devotion to his God. From my experience, while he was definitely in his own wacky world, he apparently cared deeply about people and genuinely wanted to make the world a better place than what he found it. He wanted people to get relief from the poverty and sickness that he experienced growing up.

And he was determined as a jackass. How else could one man believe so deeply that he heard God tell him to build a university to educate men and women to positively impact the world…and then actually build it. (By the way, ORU is not just a seminary or place for training preachers; it’s a full university and Oral wanted desperately to see its medical school and cancer research center succeed.)

So when I was walking the halls of campus last summer, when I looked around and saw all those Jetsons-looking buildings, it was obvious that this empire of sorts was built by a visionary. And then I re-read the vision statement that was inscribed all over the place: “Build Me a university. Build it on My authority and on the Holy Spirit. Raise up your students to hear My voice, to go where My light is seen dim, My voice is heard small, and My healing power is not known, even to the uttermost bounds of the earth. Their work will exceed yours, and in this I am well pleased.” — That was what Oral believed he had heard straight from God’s mouth. I don’t know if he actually heard from God or whether he was a fraud, maybe a bit of both, but it’s apparent that he had good intentions and otherworldly motivation. He wanted to help the world. To be sure, he messed up some people, but he also helped some too.

So to see videos and posts throughout the web with people saying how terrible a person he was and such, while I don’t disagree with all of them, it makes me wonder what makes us think that we’re any better than him. We’re all fucked up. We all have our narcissistic days (whether we admit it or not). True, all of us don’t have the hearts and minds of thousands hanging onto our every word, but if I did, I bet I’d go a little crazy too. Regardless, even if he was a little off, he drove his ministry like a man who had, in fact, been somehow in touch with something beyond us, boldly making actions he knew no one would understand. This is why to some he is a prophet and to others he is a devil. To me? I have no idea what to say because all my experiences with him, his ministry, his family, and his university are filled with tension. Which brings me back to that summer day as I was about to open the doors to Christ Chapel:

Those memories came flooding back as I pulled the handle. Memories of some of the most confusing times in my life, the feelings of spiritual inadequacy because I couldn’t hear from God like others; I couldn’t feel God’s presence like others; I couldn’t believe what the Bible said, and I didn’t know how to pray. So I hated this place. Oral Roberts and his university were a scam. …And I felt the tension coming back….I pulled the door open just a crack and out came an incredibly peaceful sound. A welcoming sound of a single person calmly playing the piano in an empty chapel, and the sound of a vacuum cleaner. I opened the door wide and stepped inside. I felt welcomed by a special presence. I was surprised by how peaceful I felt. This did not sit well because it did not justify my angst. I felt like the place was just there, like a blank canvas waiting for whomever to do whatever they felt they needed to do to find peace. It had no judgments against me. And so I realized that maybe I was the one carrying the judgments, choosing to hold onto the confusion and restlessness. It wasn’t all Oral’s fault.

There is more to this story and it’s a long one. So I’ll end it here for now. I just have to say that I think Oral Roberts was one jacked-up mofo, and so is his son and his university. But he was also a human who tried to do good the best he knew how. He made it possible for me to get a degree because his university was the only type of school my parents would pay for. His ministry gave me insight into a segment of our society that is still often misunderstood, but a segment that nonetheless believes in something. Even though I cannot believe the same things Oral Roberts and the subculture he created believe in, you’ve got to give kudos to the guy at least for being true to what he thought was the direction he should go, at least he tried to do something positive with his life, which is more than many of us can say. And for that I can say, without any ill feelings, rest in peace, Oral Roberts.