Brett Tilford

Deeply committed to a theology of the weakness of God with a focus on the sufferings of Christ

Intuitively it makes sense to focus on the power of God. He is God after all. That’s why I think it’s interesting that the Gospels, with their centrality on the cross, present the somewhat paradoxical idea that the love of God isn’t best expressed in displays of awe inspiring power, but in sacrifice and weakness. Sometimes God loses. Love is fragile; easily crushed by the powers that be. In a world where power and violence is constantly on display via various media outlets (t.v., radio, internet) I think this is a timely message that resonates deeply with people.

Intent on encouraging people to read weird books (including theology) with the hope that it derails and changes them

In so many ways books saved my faith. People tend to think of books as dry and dusty things – full of cobwebs. In the same way we tend to think that “intellectualizing” the faith will make it a dry and dead thing as well – a religion confined to dusty books and scholars pens. I don’t view books like that. Books are simply a medium to convey ideas, and ideas are the absolute lifeblood of any faith. The minute we stop thinking, writing and arguing about our faith is the moment it’s no longer relevant in our lives. There was a time when I thought most everything about my faith had been figured out by pastors and theologians before me. Looking back that was the day my faith started to whither. It took writers like Nietzche, N.T. Wright, and Pete Rollins to dig fresh the spring of ideas that could give life to a vibrant faith in me again.

Focused on our actual material existence: our eating, drinking, walking around, playing, loving, laughing life (Romans 12:1)

“I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my brother and I found all three.” – Anonymous

I think too often our faith get’s lost in our search for a God “out there”. He’s in “heaven” or somewhere “spiritual” – just beyond our reach. If only we’d pray a little harder, listen a little closer, or raise our hands a little higher we’d find Him. This can easily veer towards a striving for a God who remains silent despite our best efforts.

On the other hand we can lose ourselves in endless introspection. God is somewhere in our souls – the core of who we are. This ties in with the “Jesus is in my heart” type of thinking. I need only to peer inside myself and then I’ll find God. If only I could clear this sin out of my life then I’d be in touch with myself (and by extension God) again. “Oh wicked man that I am.” The worst is when Christian “small groups” catch this disease. You go around the circle and all we can talk about is our latest sin and how we can’t feel God anymore. It’s group therapy and it’s a faith that believes this is the way to God – looking inside ourselves. I tried this for a decade and eventually couldn’t take how obsessed with myself and my feelings I was.

“I sought my brother and I found all three.” This has been so true for me. I love the idea that God is love and that he’s best experienced in those magical moments when we stumble into generosity, kindness, and goodness (e.g. love – which transcends any definition). My faith has meaning only to the degree that I become the place where God manifests in the world, which is anywhere that love is springing up. The beauty of this is that suddenly my entire life can be riddled with God (in a uniquely Christian sense), whether I philosophically agree that a supreme being (G-D) is really “up there somewhere” or not. It also infuses our every day lives with beauty and meaning because suddenly God and faith is tangible. It’s seen in everything from my ethics at work, to how I interact with the bum on the street, to what motivates my politics. My actual life is no longer divorced from my faith. I don’t need to take a “time out” for God and go and meditate over my lunch break (of course if you enjoy that then by all means indulge yourself!) because my entire day is saturated with the divine – at least to the degree that I’m loving the people around me.

More to come on this…

The evangelical church is searching for inspiration. Like an aging athlete we’ve “lost a step”. You wouldn’t guess it from visiting us – we have more people and money than ever – but we know it and that’s enough. We’ve run out of new ideas. We’ve run out of new language. We struggle to make art. We have no new prayers. Our songs don’t resonate – like fingernails clicking on tin cups. The bible has become stale. Our children are leaving the faith. We try to rally the troops, to instill new life, but we remain un-inspired. We try not to sound cliché but we can’t help ourselves – it’s all we have. Cliches and tired theological ideas. We sense this and so we look to the big churches and pastors for inspiration.

Surely, they will provide a spark, some insight that will instill new life. But they’re just as desperate. On the outside they’re “hip” – electric guitars, shorts, and pastors with tattoos – but theologically they’ve refused to come to grips with the 21^st century. Like a trendy 20 something who wears the latest styles but talks like their grandpa. These churches attract some young people but sooner or later most realize it’s the same shtick and move on.

I don’t offer this critique as an outsider – someone pointing fingers or kicking people while they’re down. I’ve been there. I’ve been the one with a faith that didn’t resonate anymore. The one searching for new language and news songs. Struggling with that nagging sense that I’ve outgrown the clothes of my childhood faith. My answer was to grow up and re-engage with a world that had passed me by.

Based on most evangelical books, music, and day time talk radio I thought the “secular” world was headed to hell in a hand-basket. It was filled with unhappy people leading meaningless lives adrift on a sea of moral relativism. Imagine my surprise when I found Catholics, Liberals, Buddhists, Agnostics, and Atheists happier and, dare-I-say-it, more Christlike than me. The writings of these folks disturbed and wounded me at first. But I quickly found that they were the wounds of friends. They didn’t want to destroy me – they simply wanted to be honest with me.

So here’s my fear for the evangelical church. I fear that in our not so subtle rejection of all things “non-Christian” we’ve cut ourselves off from the thinkers and poets who could serve to infuse us with new life. We’re scared by culture. We’re scared of people who read. We’re scared of being branded a heretic. We’re scared of science. We’re scared of “post modernism”. We’re scared of gays. We’re scared.

So here’s my antidote. Re-engage. Throw yourself into the world. Immerse yourself in the music, poetry and literature of our day. Not so that you can critique them – let them critique you. Let them freak you out and piss you off. Let them rail against you and you stand there and take it for the good medicine that it is. I can’t promise that you’ll re-emerge stronger in your faith – who knows maybe you’ll lose it. But I can promise that you’ll emerge a more courageous and honest person.

Our churches desperately need people like this. People fully engaged with the 21^st century.