I’ve been a member of a church my whole life.  My grandfather was a pastor, his brother was a pastor, and there were others before them.  And now I’m a pastor.  I serve a fairly large church in Grand Island, Nebraska.  The good life.  On a stick.

I’m also a United Methodist.  My grandfather & great-uncle were Methodist.  My parents chose United Methodist churches when I was growing up.  I attended the same United Methodist Church for more than 20 years before heading off to seminary at Claremont School of Theology.

I resonated early on with the idea that God is one who expresses love rather than anger or hatred or contempt, and God calls all of humanity to do the same.  I was most moved by Jesus’ final teaching in the Gospel of John when he gave that new commandment:  love each other, and that’s how people will know who you are.

Like a good Methodist, I think that the ancient and sacred Christian texts have everything I need to figure out God’s message for the world.  As a pastor and a preacher, I am a student of the Bible and continue to read and study.

And it’s hard.  It’s really hard to figure out what’s written there because it challenges me and it makes me think and it forces me out of my comfort zone and it transforms me.  God transforms me.  And I can’t help but keep working at it, because the more I do the more I become a better person.  That’s the way I think about it.  That’s the way I experience it.

I recently read a blog that made me see that I’ve been somewhat of a hypocrite, though.  I haven’t been doing all I can – as informed by sacred Christian texts – to show the love that Jesus teaches and that God calls me to give.  I haven’t been open to God’s transforming work as completely as I could be.  I haven’t been showing the world who I am because of the way I show love for all of humanity.

I have been silent in the face of exclusion and condemnation.  I’ve been afraid of offending people.  I’ve been afraid of pissing people off.  And this stops now.

The blog was from Dan Pearce’s Single Dad Laughing site titled I’m Christian Unless You’re Gay.  It’s an excellent read.  Please check it out.

He writes of judgement, hatred, and bullying for any reason and how it’s completely against the tenet found in a number of religious traditions to express love to one another.  He specifically discusses the Christian (and I see it from other religious and non-religious traditions) abuse of gays and lesbians.  And he’s right.  I see it.  All the time.

And I’ve been silent.  I’ve been afraid to say something.  And this stops now.

I’m a Christian pastor who loves the LGBT community.  I’m a Christian pastor who doesn’t believe that homosexuality is a sin.  I’m a Christian pastor who thinks that gays and lesbians and bisexuals and queers and transgendered persons are not only invited by God into faith communities, but who are essential to the meaning of true community.

And I would be remiss not to note that the United Methodist Church disagrees with me, and instead notes that homosexuality is “incompatible with Christian teaching.”

Even so, I refuse to be silent.  I refuse to give in to my fear of the response.  I refuse to give in to the fear of consequences.  I refuse to exclude these persons from the Christian community.  Because that’s not love.  That’s not life-giving.  That doesn’t show who I am by the way that I love the world.

Many of my friends will disagree with me.  Many will cite scripture to me.

They’ll reference the creation story in Genesis and tell me that God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.  Even though that story is about creation and procreation, about addressing human origin.  It’s not about faithful same-gender relationships.

They’ll reference the Levitical laws, forgetting that we already ignore most of those laws based on Paul’s writing in Galatians that the law has been fulfilled in Jesus Christ or his writing in Romans that we are no longer under the law.  And even so, careful reading of the specific Levitical text seems to show that it upholds patriarchy instead of condemning faithful same-gender relationships.

They’ll reference the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, which is about gang-rape and fear.  It’s not about faithful same-gender relationships.

They’ll reference 1 Corinthians and Romans, two letters from Paul – who by the way was a very gifted writer and whose Greek is well known for its form and poetry.  But they won’t mention that there’s debate on the meaning of the Greek words used (and that weren’t even translated to “homosexual” until the 1940s).  Careful analysis reflects a likelihood that these texts are likely to reference pederasty (the ancient practice of enslaving young boys who would be sexually exploited).  It’s not about faithful same-gender relationships.

And yet I would still be a hypocrite if I were to say that I have the exclusive (capital-T) Truth of God’s will for the world.  If I exclude persons who disagree with me, I’m doing the same thing as those who exclude persons based on their sexual identity.

My particular passion is about exclusion of the LGBT community, and I won’t be silent.  And I don’t intend to silence anyone else.

Instead, let’s talk.  Let’s have a conversation.  Let’s be respectful.  Let’s show love to one another, because that’s how the world will know who we are.

I’m a Christian pastor who doesn’t think homosexuality is a sin.  Let’s talk.

Today I saw a couple of tweets from Todd Rhoades (no relation to me) that spoke of church growth & membership.  In one, he linked to a blog post titled “Mainline Desperation” and quoted J. Barrett Owen, beginning:

We look at the work it’s going to take to rebuild our mainline churches and we’re met with anguish, difficult times and frustration.

We feel little to no creativity after examining the debt and despair that creeps past the sanctuary doors.

We feel the work it’s going to take to become a necessary influence on the community is enough to cause anyone to give up and walk away.

So instead of influencing anybody, we just tell stories of how it used to not be this way.

Later, Owen suggests:

If we choose, though (and I believe it’s our choice), to become passionate about social justice, offering peace instead of war, giving hope to a future that needs it, educating all people, loving all people, blessing all people, practicing authentic spirituality, worshiping as a community, and praying for the brokenhearted, then the church is forever needed.

We can escape the turmoil in our own exile when we realize the church isn’t dying.

…
When our collective consciousness changes, the church will, too.

I think Rhoades is right on quoting Owen who seems to see very clearly both the membership decline of mainline churches and a real opportunity for hope.  To me, it echoes John Cobb‘s thoughts in his book Reclaiming the Church.  Cobb writes of the failure of mainline (he calls them “oldline”) churches to stand firm in conviction on theological and social issues, and instead observes a tendency for churches to water down their theology into “lukewarmness” in an effort to be more inclusive.  The consequence for this is that people haven’t felt as though churches take stands for issues to which they as members of humanity can be passionately committed.  And so they leave.

Cobb suggests that a church’s stand on any particular issue does not necessarily have to exclude persons who disagree, and instead he illustrates that reclaiming theology from the academic institutions in a way that broadens dialogue within a congregation – creating a safe place to share differing views rather than asking people to keep their mouths shut to avoid confrontation – is the key to church growth.  This kind of passionate and spirited conversation raises in people an openness to transformation, a commitment to their faith and their church, and is essential for overall growth.

And it doesn’t fall far from Owen’s vision, either!

And so Rhoades’ other tweet – which is a question asking if a particular church advertisement is “good or bad” – is an image from a subway:

To me, this is taking a stand, opening the possibility for spirited conversation, and an offering of hope to declining churches.

This month at the “Awaken” worship and small group experience, we’ve been tackling the difficult issue of Evangelism, something that – for me – is something of a four-letter word.  Jay (a colleague here at UM4GI) shared some of his difficult experiences in early life and early ministry related to evangelism, and my own experiences haven’t been any better!

More than once, someone has asked me if I was “saved” and if I had given my life to Jesus.  And while I think it’s true that I am “saved” (although those who ask may define “saved” differently than I do) and I have absolutely given my life over to my God and Savior, the question itself seems to indicate some kind of hierarchy.  If I haven’t experienced the work of the Holy Spirit and the redeeming love of the Christ, does that somehow mean that God loves me less?  Does that mean that God’s grace isn’t available to me?  I don’t think so.  I think God’s love and grace are bigger than that.

The perception of evangelism has become fairly negative, seeing evangelism as something twisted and judgment-filled where one person or group holds their holier-than-thou we-have-something-you-don’t attitude over the heads of another person or group saying that God won’t love them, unless.  I even went to an evangelism training once where the instructors actually taught that tricking someone into a relationship with Jesus was OK as long as the relationship was established.  The rationale seemed to be that the ends justified the means.

I don’t think that’s evangelism.  I don’t think that’s love.  And I’m abundantly clear that that isn’t how I am called to treat my “neighbors.”

I think of evangelism as invitation.  That’s it.  Invitation.  And in my experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean telling someone that the place that I worship is exactly the best place for them.  What if invitation was more about the one being invited rather than the person doing the inviting?  What if we expressed more care for them then for our membership numbers?

What if the invitation was something like this:  “I go to this great church and I really like it.  I’d love for you to come and check it out.  And if you don’t really feel comfortable at the place where I go, I really hope you’ll check out some other churches until you find a place where you are comfortable.”

Invitation without guilt; welcoming without pressure; an expression of love.  To me, that’s more like evangelism.

If you follow the Lectionary – or if your church does, or if you even know what the lectionary is – you may know that the Gospel lesson this past Sunday was the familiar story of Jesus feeding the 5000.  If you don’t know the story, I have a Jesus action figure that illustrates it!  Check this out…

My favorite part about this action figure is not just that he comes with 5 loaves and 2 fish or that he has a container to turn water into wine.  No, my favorite part is that Jesus has “Glow-in-the-Dark Hands!”  Oh yes, because you know that Jesus’ hands glowed just like the tip of Harry Potters wand when he did something magical.  A friend suggests that maybe Jesus’ hands became discolored from healing all those lepers…

With that said, be careful.  According to the warning on the top of the box, Jesus is a choking hazard and is not suitable for children under 3 years.

But it got me thinking about Jesus and his miracles and how we talk about them today.  And with that in mind, I have to wonder about all those who are asking now where God’s power is today and where God’s miracles are today.

When it came to those 5 loaves and 2 fish, did Jesus really do something supernatural so that the food sort of magically appeared as it was being distributed so that it was enough to feed 5000 men (not including women and children) plus 12 baskets left over?  Let me be clear.  I believe completely that Jesus had that kind of power, that he was capable of the supernatural.  I’m not questioning that.  What I’m asking is, did he actually use that awesome power in this case?

When I talk to people about that, they say that even asking that question is kinda dangerous, because if he didn’t use that awesome power then it takes away from the power of the story.  But I don’t agree.

A friend of mind witnessed a miracle once.  He describes it that way.  A miracle.  He was at a big conference, and they were serving communion (aka eucharist).  And they began to run out of bread!  As an usher in the back of this hall, he could see that the supply was getting dangerously low.  And then he noticed that people were very discreetly walking up behind this table and adding their own bread.  It was sandwich bread and other stuff that – it seems – people were going out to their cars and bringing back.  And there was enough so that everyone was able to receive communion!

So what if that’s what happened when Jesus fed all those people?  Does that mean it wasn’t a miracle?  Some would say that’s exactly what it means, and again I don’t agree.

Maybe it’s just a sense of pessimism about people and their nature.  I think people are greedy.  In the story of Adam and Eve, we learn about their greed for knowledge as they eat the forbidden fruit.  And Cain killed Abel because he was greedy for God’s attention.  The story of Jacob (who would later be named Israel) illustrates his intense greed, from wanting his brother’s birth-right to his father’s blessing to his father-in-law’s livestock.

The religious leaders of Jesus’ time were greedy for power and control and attention.  Many of the people were too!  Remember the guy who asked Jesus how to gain eternal life?  When he was told to sell all he had and give it to the poor, he went away depressed!

And this hasn’t stopped.  Wars among nations are most often started out of some sense of greed.  And look at today’s social insistence on instant gratification.  Greed is pervasive and it’s a sickness and it eats us from the inside out.  Stories of people who give generously and beyond their means are not as common as they could be.

So would it really be any less of a miracle if Jesus motivated 5000 men (not including women and children) to share what meager offerings they had brought for themselves with those who had even less?  No, I don’t think it would be less.  I think that’s the greater miracle.

And to those who ask where God’s miracles are, I suggest looking beyond the supernatural.  God’s presence and power can be seen and observed and experienced.  But not always in the flash and bang of magic and mystery.  Miracles are way better than that.

In a class this semester, we were asked to write a short blurb about our theological convictions.  The catch was that it had to be an “Elevator Talk.”  Think of it this way.  Imagine you get into an elevator and punch the button for your floor.  It’s a pretty big building and it’ll take a couple of minutes to get there.  There’s someone else in the elevator – a stranger perhaps – and they ask you about your faith.  What do you say before the elevator stops?

Here’s what I wrote:

I believe in the God of the “Omnis”: omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, all that stuff. I believe that God created the world out of love, and that God’s love continues to inspire creation and creativity in the world today. I believe that God calls out to all of creation and that as members of creation we may or may not choose to respond.

While ancient texts speak of this God as one who told people that they would get wealth and power if they were faithful, I think God later changed the deal. Why? In my mind, it’s because people changed and God was paying attention. So God sent Jesus, someone I think of as both completely divine and completely human. Jesus taught in ways that most people weren’t used to, using engaging stories and speaking in a way that people could really understand. He told stories and gave examples. He used plain language and he met people where they were. And his message was clear: love each other.

While a lot of people appreciated this, the people in power got uptight. They saw this kind of teaching as a threat. So they arrested him, they tortured him, and they executed him. And yes, I think he rose from the dead in a supernatural way. I suppose it was that whole completely divine thing…

Since that time, humanity has spent a great deal of time trying to come to terms with Jesus’ teachings and the way he related to people. In an effort to tell the stories and share the experiences, I think it turned in some ways to that old game of “telephone” I played in Jr. High. It’s that game where one person whispers a secret into another person’s ear, and that person passes it on to the next, and it goes on that way along a bunch of people. Then at the end, you usually learn that the last person got a different message than the one that was intended. It’s because language can be vague and we have a tendency to try to optimize. So am I saying that the message has gotten corrupted? In some ways, yes. I think it has. Do I think we’ve lost it completely? Nope. Not even close.

So the journey I’m on is about finding that message for myself. It’s about discovery and the ongoing sense of wonder. It’s about sharing my ideas and what I’ve found and about listening when other share their own experiences, and about growing through that process.

Yup. I said it. Jesus loves gay porn stars. And what’s more, I believe it!

A friend, classmate, and author named Steven Luff gave me a T-shirt just the other day with that saying on it, and it made me think.  Just how far does Jesus’ love go?  Is it possible that Jesus could really love a gay porn star?  A sex addict?  This last one Steven addresses in the book Pure Eyes: A Man’s Guide to Sexual Integrity, available at Amazon here (full disclosure: if you buy through that link, I’ll get a small kickback… thought you should know).

Does Jesus love gay people like Ellen Degeneres?  Some would say not, and continue that natural disasters like hurricane Katrina are actually God’s wrath because of American society’s acceptance of gays and lesbians (read here).  NOTE:  This example and the next both suggest that homosexuality is a sin, something that I whole-heartedly argue against, though I will not do so in this post.

Fred Phelps (whose website I refuse to link from here) would say that U.S. soldiers dying in Iraq and Afghanistan are a direct result of the same.  Still others argue that the earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan were God’s wrath, perhaps a result of the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941 (read here).

Is any of this consistent with the Gospel message?  No.  Not to me it’s not.  And frankly, I think it gives Christians and Christianity a bad name…

And that’s the thing.  Sure, we can find all sorts of things that point to God’s wrath in the face of humanity’s stupidity.  First-century Jews (and I think some today) might have argued that violating the sacred covenant with God would surely result in divine punishment.  And there is more than a little support for that train of thought in the Hebrew Bible (or the Old Testament as most Christians know it).  And if that were our only source of sacred text, could we argue the point?

But for Christians, that’s not the only source of sacred text.  So given the Gospel text, what’s the significance of Jesus’ teachings or of his sacrifice on the cross?  Don’t most Christians affirm that Jesus taught a message of profound love and even gave his life on the cross as an ultimate act of love for all of humanity for all time?  I – as one Christian – am unwilling to say that Christ’s death wasn’t enough and that God’s wrath has to fill in the gaps.  I’m just not willing to say it.  Because I believe that Jesus loves us where we are and as we are, without qualification and without prejudice.

I am willing to say that Jesus loves gay porn stars.  And yes, I believe it.

I wrote a few weeks ago about the Profound Disappointment I was feeling after hearing that I did not pass the interview portion of examination for Commissioning in the Cal-Pac Conference of the UMC.  And the responses have been overwhelming!  More than once, I have been moved to tears…  In that manly way of course.  ;-)

My initial Facebook/Twitter post garnered dozens of responses plus a whole bunch of individual wall posts, direct messages, emails, and telephone calls.  I can’t begin to say thank you to all of you.  I don’t have the words.

I do want to share one specific message here.  A friend emailed and said that she had recently been doing some video interviews with church members about their church, faith, and experiences of God.  When one youth – one who I knew when I served that congregation, and who is now enduring a life-threatening disease – was asked about his favorite church experience, he said that (quoting from the email):

it was when PASTOR Bob Rhodes (and he went on to describe your role) invited me to join the youth group. He said that it was his best and favorite memory of this church.  To me, that was such an affirmation of your love and ministry, Bob. You are surrounded in love and prayers.

And so I come to understand that the Grace of God is present in and through this difficult time.  I don’t believe for a second that God intended for me to endure this profound disappointment – that’s not my theology.  I can’t bring myself to say or think that God intends hurt and despair on anyone.  What I do believe is that God has been reaching out in comforting and enduring grace (some might even call it prevenient grace) before I – in my anger and hurt and disappointment – was willing to acknowledge God’s presence.

Again, my thanks to you all.  You consistently show me that God continues to work and to call goodness out of everything.

In this process toward ordained ministry, I underwent a psychological assessment that determined that I top out the introvert/extrovert scale.  And guess which end I was on?

<insert my best imitation of a smile here>

So it may make sense that I begin to process this profound disappointment in an outward way.  To be honest, I do this for a couple of reasons (though I’m not sure which ranks higher for me right now).  One is that I haven’t blogged in quite a while and this is a pretty solid subject to talk about.  Second is that I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this kind of disappointment, and often the simple act of sharing (and reading about) similar experiences can be comforting.

And so yesterday was the day of bad news.  I found out that I didn’t pass the interview that I’ve spent a great deal of time and energy preparing for.  When I say interview, I really mean that it’s very much an oral examination.  The way the process went is that there are three separate 30-minute interviews with three separate groups.  Later, they get together to have conversation and eventually take a vote.  And I didn’t receive the required 75% to pass.

So what went wrong?

That’s a hard question to answer today, because today I’m angry.  In that anger, I find myself wanting to lash out.  I find myself short-tempered.  I find myself wanting to blame the process or the people or the politics or any number of factors.  And yes, I surely blame myself.  Whether or not I hold this blame equally is something that changes roughly every few seconds.  Likely I’ll end up blaming myself most.  That’s what I do.

And don’t take that to mean that I’ll go to that dark place of not being good enough or giving up.  That’s not what I mean.  The simple truth is that the people conducting the interview didn’t hear the things they needed to hear from me to vote positively.  That’s the truth.  And it sucks.

As part of a class last semester, I had to describe what has become known the Wesleyan Quadrilateral to a current issue facing the church.  John Wesley – founder of Methodism – would view the things going on in his time through the lens of this quadrilateral: scripture, tradition, reason, and experience.  Be warned.  This is a long read, but (in my opinion) worth it…  Here is the question and my response:

The United Methodist Church holds that the living core of the Christian faith was revealed in Scripture, illumined by tradition, vivified in personal experience, and confirmed by reason.  What is your understanding of this theological position of the Church?  Demonstrate its application in at least one current issue of the Church.

As one who grew up in the UMC, I don’t have a memory of a specific time that I chose this practice of Wesley’s theology over another tradition.  Even having gone through confirmation and the variety of congregations and faith traditions visited as part of that class, I felt aware of other possibilities; but none seemed as perfect a fit for me as the UMC.  In hindsight, I think the reason has a great deal to do with the way United Methodists approach scripture and the application of scripture to the world.  In short, my comfort at the earliest stages of faith with the UMC has a great deal to do with the Wesleyan Quadrilateral.

The Wesleyan Quadrilateral stresses scripture as the primary source for all we know about God, the life of Jesus Christ, the work of the Holy Spirit and about faith.  The way I understand this is that the scriptures contain everything that I need – and that we as a community of faith need – in order to lead a life according to God’s call, and so the difficulty lies not in where to find God’s message but how to understand God’s message.  The texts we read today come from a long line of storytellers and scribes who have painstakingly and prayerfully worked to share this message, even across social, cultural, temporal, and linguistic boundaries.  The difficulties in bringing such a message lies not in the scriptures themselves, but in our own human limitations.  In light of these limitations, what a wonder it is that God – who has given us all that we need to know through the scriptures – speaks to us even beyond those scriptures.

Through the tradition of generations of Christians, we can be in dialogue with a community across time.  As an individual, I think it is foolish and even narcissistic to think that I alone – even with the guidance of scripture – am able to discern all there is to know about God and God’s wishes for humanity.  Instead, reading from ancient and contemporary theologians and following the example of traditional practices offers a broader perspective for the Christian faith and experience.  It is important to note that part of being in dialogue is the understanding that we may not always agree with every member of our community.  Rather than seeing this as troubling, I find this to be a sign of God’s grace and God’s infinite ability to relate to humanity and to creation.  I don’t mean to say that God is different depending on individual human perception, but instead that God responds to us according to our needs and relates to us each independently and completely.

It is the nature of God’s intimate relationship with each person that makes it possible for us to experience God, and there is no shortage of written accounts of these kinds of personal experiences from the scriptures to Augustine to Wesley’s strange warming of the heart.  My own experience began – in a sense – with the understanding that I was called to ordained ministry.  This experience did more than open my mind to Christian service, and an equally important affect was that I began to become more aware of God’s movement in my own life.  As I continued forward from that time, I was able to experience more fully God’s specific presence and call on my life.  I was also able to look back to memories from before my call experience and – with newly opened eyes – could see that God had been actively present far longer than I had been paying attention.  Collectively, these experiences draw me forward to God and to what God calls me to do.

The way I find most effective to tie together these aspects of scripture, tradition, and experience is through the gift of reason.  As children of God, we have not been created to blindly love God, but to choose to love God, and I think the only way for us to come to this choice is to use reason to put together scripture with tradition and reason in a way that makes sense for us individually.  Using this gift of reason, we can assess whether our experiences fall in line with what we read in scripture; we can discern whether the traditional practices of our faith make sense in our current context and our own experience; we can examine our reading of scriptures in light of our tradition and experiences.  In this way, the Wesleyan Quadrilateral helps us to more fully experience God’s divine lure in our lives.

One way to apply the Quadrilateral to a current issue of the Church is in relation to the immigration bill recently signed into law in Arizona.  This law will require all immigrants to carry documentation and will give local law enforcement officials wide-ranging power to interrogate or even arrest anyone suspected of being in the country illegally.  While I am sensitive to the ongoing national debate about immigration in the United States, this application will focus on the specific law itself rather than the broader issue of immigration reform.

When Jesus was asked about the most important commandment – written in the canonical Gospels – he cites Leviticus 19:18, saying that we should not only love God but that we should love our neighbors in the same way that we love ourselves.  In Luke, Jesus follows with the parable of the Good Samaritan – who reason and tradition tell us would have been considered in that context to have been an immigrant and an outcast – who acts out of love and compassion.  In the Gospel of John, Jesus gives the disciples a new commandment: to love each other just as Jesus has loved them.  As I reason through these scriptures, I think the core of the Christian faith is love!  Is it possible to love our brothers and sisters in Christ if we are more concerned with their immigration status than their wellbeing?  I don’t think so.  To add to the scriptural support, the same chapter of Leviticus that Jesus quotes when he says we are to love our neighbors says, “When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien.  The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:33-34, NRSV).

This passage reminds readers of the Israelites in Egypt and I also think of the Babylonian exile.  The people of God have been aliens in strange lands, and tradition reminds us of inhumane treatment, murder, and the unyielding injustice of those who have been under such oppression.  I think of Peter’s vision in Acts, and his experience that followed preaching to the Gentiles.  Though the early Christian leaders questioned his motives, his vision and the presence of the Holy Spirit silenced the critics.

I also think of the North American slave trade of the eighteenth century, and addressed directly by John Wesley who wrote, “If, therefore, you have any regard to justice, (to say nothing of mercy, nor the revealed law of God,) render unto all their due. Give liberty to whom liberty is due, that is, to every child of man, to every partaker of human nature… Be gentle toward all men; and see that you invariably do unto every one as you would he should do unto you.” [John Wesley, “Thoughts Upon Slavery,” http://gbgm-umc.org/umw/wesley/thoughtsuponslavery.stm, 1774.]

And finally, experience tells me that I have been invited into a community of God.  In my experience, community is not only a place for dialogue and friendship, but is a place for safety; it is a place of sanctuary.  I do not see community as a place where everyone looks or thinks or acts the same, but I do see community as a place for unity and our common connection to our creator and redeemer.  Reasoning all of these together, I see no way that this law in Arizona is a showing of love, a recognition of the immigrant as citizen, or an invitation to community.  In that light, this is a law that I cannot – as a person of faith and good conscience – support or follow.

For a long time I’ve been watching the Internet develop.  Though it will likely say more about my age than is comfortable, the reality is that I’ve been around since Netscape Navigator 1.0.  Yes, I’m serious.  My first email client was Pine.  Yes, via Telnet.  And yes, I’m still serious.

What I’m trying to say is that I’ve seen the evolution of the World Wide Web.  And what’s fantastic is that it’s not the giant corporations that always get the most traffic.  The Internet is driven from the bottom, a kind of technological grass-roots organism with life all its own.  So the question is:  who’s in charge?

Seth Godin‘s book Tribes compares our current social context in light of technology to ancient human groupings of tribes.  With the availability of information and the ease of global communication, humanity has begun to connect in this ancient way.

This isn’t to say that we’re forming one giant global tribe.  No way.  We’re forming millions of smaller tribes in much the same way as our ancestors.  For them, tribes were often formed based on location.  For us, technology has torn down the barriers of geography and given us the opportunity to connect with that [insert the latest cult classic here] fan from the other side of the globe.  So again the question is:  who’s in charge?

Again, it’s not the corporations or the politicians or the rich or the powerful – at least not in my view.  It’s the people who stand up, regardless of their location – geographically or socially.  It’s the people who manage their fear of standing out and instead choose to stand out.  It’s the people who take a bold position rather than carefully seeking out and balancing in the center.

So.  Who’s in charge?  Are you?