Burned out?
Freely and Lightly series, #3.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
~ Matthew 11:28-30 msg
So far in this series, we have looked at the Context of Fatigue and the Weariness of Dualism. These are tough topics, but very very real. Today’s topic might even feel tougher as we consider how religion—even in its better forms—can also be part of the problem.
For contemporary Christians the word “religion” often has negative connotations. We’re about Relationship, not Religion, some would say. And I appreciate that intention. The word itself actually comes from the Latin religio and is related to the English word ligament: to connect or attach. In this sense, “religion” is about re-ligamenting or reconnecting us with God. That part sounds pretty good to me. The dark underbelly of religion, however, is the institutional overlay.
We’ve been talking about all the turbulence of COVID and the social, financial, and psychological toll it has taken on the world. But another COVID story is only beginning to be written—less dramatic perhaps yet potentially altering of our fundamental social landscape. The headline might read something like this: “A New Church Diaspora?” It’s not just our universities that have been running on borrowed time as entrenched, outmoded behemoths; many churches have as well. Structures that served us well in previous generations have largely institutionalized such that we now serve them. The tail now wags the dog.
Social prophets like Phyllis Tickle, Brian McLaren, and others have noticed that major realignments occur approximately every 500 years: tectonic shifts that rock our world, weed out failing structures, and establish new ones. The last was the Protestant Reformation in the 1500’s; you already know about that one. Half a millennium before (1054), the “Great Schism” split the church into Eastern and Western branches that still mark us today. Jumping back again to around 500, the Roman Empire collapsed, spinning Europe into the Dark Ages and spawning a monastic movement to safeguard the spiritual flame. And of course Jesus himself changed everything 500 years before that!
Anglican Bishop Mark Dyer calls these 500-year episodes “a giant rummage sale,” where we take a look at all our old stuff and decide to sell what we no longer need. Some believe we are going through this kind of giant sale today…and I am one of them.
The church crisis was brewing long before COVID, but the pandemic turned up the heat on everything, including church. What does that mean for us? I honestly don’t know. But I think it’s fair to assume several things: 1) that as COVID subsides, fewer people will return to church than left, 2) that digital church is here to stay, for better or for worse, and 3) that the natural process of reimagining and reinventing church will accelerate.
Now I’ll go out on a limb and describe some of the parts of church that I hope we can actively reimagine:
We must return to movement. Every denomination (and religion) was birthed organically and powerfully with an energetic core…only to trend inevitably toward institution. This would be true of even the most contemporary and innovative. If you have a building, a staff, a creed, a polity, and an (even unwritten) order of service, you are an institution. Institution isn’t bad—and I attend one gladly—but its danger lies in the assumption that the institution is the Fire…and that if you’re participating in the institution, then you’re participating in the Fire. Not so.
The early church had none of those appendages (building, staff, creed, polity, or service order), but they had the Fire! They had the Awe…which was contagious enough to draw some, repel others, and threaten all existing power structures. Each of these 500-year realignments brought with it a return to this kind of primal movement. And this is our need today: not to villainize structure but to right-size it by prioritizing the relational axis of Movement.
We must resist the commoditization of spirituality. I write as one who participates in this at some level: I write books and coach people. For money. It’s not the money that taints the product; it’s the power and control that tend to follow the money that bears scrutiny. And perhaps even more damagingly, a dangerous tendency exists for Christ-followers to outsource their spirituality to the institution rather than own it for ourselves.
This was the prime catalyst for the Protestant Reformation: forgiveness was commoditized as indulgences, scripture was commoditized for the educated and ordained, political power was commoditized by color of frock. Don’t think that we don’t still do this in more subtle ways today. The spiritual life is free and available for every hungry soul, outside the institution but not outside of community. The institution should be a resource, not a replacement. A welcome support, not the core. And the institution should help mediate the actual experience of community rather than just activities that substitute for life-on-life transformation.
We must discover a less colonizing narrative. The Great Commandment has been largely buried under a misappropriation of the Great Commission, and the result has been a church with high walls to keep “us” in and “them” out…punctuated by forays outside the wall to try to convince people to adopt our belief system and come in. Does that sound harsh? I don’t mean it to be harsh. I just want to invite an honest, undefended self-assessment.
Jesus modeled it for us so beautifully: Disciple-making is about inviting people into an experience of God, an experience that starts with Love and ends with Love. This is not love-without-convictions, but it is definitively self-emptying and sacrificial. The church must stop vying for political power, defrock capitalism, and start being known for what it’s for rather than what it’s against.
We must prioritize practice over belief. Have you noticed that Jesus didn’t lead a single person in the “sinner’s prayer”? He didn’t talk about a chasm between them and a holy God to be bridged by the (coming) cross. He didn’t even talk about escaping hell and getting to heaven in the ways we usually do. Heaven, for Jesus, was a present invitation more than a future destination…and hell, for Jesus, was primarily a context for behavioral correction.
When Jesus talked about belief, it was personal, not conceptual. “Follow me” (18 times). Jesus’ appeal was relational; it was what every soul wants most to hear: You belong. You are wanted. “Repent” (9 times). This was not a call to change their ideology but to change their thinking and behavior. It was an embodied call, not a doctrinal one. “Neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin.” “Sell everything…then come, follow me.” Jesus’ invitation was to come practice the life of faith in community with him. That intent hasn’t changed, but the church’s focus has largely drifted toward intellectual conformity.
To recalibrate, the church needs to better equip us to pray, to confess, to meditate, and to break the power of subconscious sin patterns in our lives. The church can better help us recognize the deceitfulness of wealth and worry and reorient our values toward Kingdom priorities. The church can help us cultivate more compassion for the poor and marginalized. Orthodoxy matters…but orthopraxy matters more, according to Jesus.
This blog series is about living “Freely and Lightly” according to Matthew 11, so why have I moved from scriptural comfort to ecclesial manifesto? Because, just as in Jesus’ day, the religious institution, birthed in Fire, has become more the problem than the solution. It has often become “heavy and ill-fitting” (which we’ll unpack in a future blog). At its worst, the institutional church is responsible for creating “heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them” (Mt 23:4). This is where institutions inevitably trend, which is why God has to reshuffle the deck every few hundred years.
If we’re going to recover from religious burnout and embrace an ethic of “freely and lightly,” we must accept the Church Diaspora and find new ways of living out the Kingdom life together. I find this entirely hopeful!
Contemplate
How is your Breath Prayer going? If you haven’t tried it yet, take a look here. Then journal your thoughts to these questions:
How have I asked the Church to take responsibility for my spiritual life…and how can I take back my rightful responsibility?
Which of the four appeals above speak to my heart most strongly…and how can I respond?
How can I bring a humble, servant-hearted, and yet “reforming” influence into my faith community?
Takeaway
It’s been 500 years.