(or When Sin Got Sexy or The Church’s View on Smoking or It Would Suck to Have Asthma)

In an attempt to dissuade smoking, I remember adults and health books saying it looked “uncool.”  I hardly agreed.  Although never taking-up the habit, “uncoolness” was far from the compelling cause.  I have to say, the thought of one smoking in a Parisian café, suavely engrossed in a good book, or stimulating conversation, rates as one of the more “cool” looking scenes in my opinion.  In its proper context, I think smoking is sexy.  

Too bad it gives you cancer.

(Random aside: I wikepedia’ed smoking and came to find that these little white sticks have dented history since 3000BC!?  Among other interesting, disturbing facts, “Between 1970 an 1995, per-capita cigarette consumption in poorer developing countries increased by 67 percent, while it dropped by 10 percent in the richer developed world. Eighty percent of smokers now live in less developed countries. By 2030, the World Health Organization (WHO) forecasts that 10 million people a year will die of smoking-related illness, making it the single biggest cause of death worldwide, with the largest increase to be among women. WHO forecasts' the 21st century's death rate from smoking to be ten times the 20th century's rate ("Washingtonian" magazine, December 2007)).

I was taking a walk the other day and passed a relatively fit looking woman on the other side of the road.  She was probably fifty or so, and I think what led to my initial double take was the fact that she required the pursuit of an inhaler two times in our fifty-yard span of passing.  Man, it would suck to have asthma.  But what an inspiration to see people like this, captured by disease, or disability, but still committed to a life that fights the odds.

But then I realized it wasn’t an inhaler.  

The woman was smoking a cigarette.  

While walking.  

Inspirational moment had passed.

Maybe something about this was good though—at least she was still exercising, right?  And certainly being “transparent” in her addiction.  But…really…together…cigarettes and cardio?  Could they work?  Should they work?  Puffing the odd cigarette in a Parisian café is one thing.  Sucking down cigs while exercising is another.  And publicly!  But then I got back on my “things that suck” bandwagon and realized an addiction to smoking must be really awful.  I have enough addictions and rarely have the gall to admit to them, especially in public.  Her authenticity appealed to me and although it didn’t strike me as sexy, it did strike me as honest—and I liked that.  Which led to my consideration of today’s “emerged church.”  We love authenticity.  But unfortunately, I feel like it’s taken on a pretty sexy twist.

It’s one thing to attempt belief in a wooden cross and unconditional Christ who wants to save you.  But it’s an entirely other to walk that out.  As if it’s enough.  As if his exercise really cuts the bill.  Without cost.  Without adornment.  Without a sexy cigarette in hand.  I think a lot of our dogma has moved into walking while smoking—because at least you’re out for the walk...and, at least you’re smoking with authenticity.  

So am I saying we can’t have our walk and smoke our cigarette, too?  In some ways, I guess, yeah.  But I think the bigger thing I’m saying is that there’s a temptation to make, and keep, sin sexy.  To over-glorify exercise with a cigarette, versus just exercise—to keep afloat destructive habits, as long as they’re “in accountability.”  Again though, I’m not saying cigarettes are “bad,” or “following Christ and/or authenticity,” is a seamless “good.”  Furthermore, I’m not meaning to minimize, or maximize, given habits.  These are theologically fringe conversations you can take up with God.  What I am meaning to say though, is that I think we’ve gotta be willing to further grapple with an atoned for, yet transparently addicted culture of saints.  Furthermore, to tread lightly in treating the arguably sexy appeal of sin.  Can they walk together?  Should they walk together?  How do they walk together?  

Because no matter how sexy smoking can seem, it still leads to death.

Airplane

Airplanes are one of the more perplexing things in life to me.  They’re intimate and communal, yet detached and individual. Unfaithful in offering a detailed view, yet immeasurable in light of granting “the big picture.”

I’m flying right now.  En route home from the Orange Conference in Atlanta, which collected thousands of leaders aiming to rethink our thoughtful (and sometimes not so thoughtful) attempts at “Church.”  It was encouraging on many fronts, but overwhelming on many others—revealing a naked and yet overdressed, vow-less and yet overly complex, modern Bride.

The man behind me is speaking German and has ordered three “vodka and tonics.”  The woman in front of me is holding a baby.  She seems sad and tired.  The man beside me snores in intervals of three and hasn’t moved since take-off.  The guy across the way looks about forty, with a young daughter.  Going by their head-gear, they’re Jewish and look to have a tender relationship.  And these are but the inside faces.  My window keeps changing its visage, from cloud, to mountains and soon to be ocean.

Imagine all the stories on just this plane, let alone the faces of atmosphere airing its frame.  Where do they come from?  And where are they going?  Which can’t help but make me think about leaving this conference and wondering where we’re all going—and if the airtime we experienced was enough to change where we’ll choose to go?

I believe the distance between the Church Body is shrinking.  Mileage between denominations and destinations seems to be lessening.  Masses are colliding and ministries collaborating toward new (and newly old) attempts at the Commission.  But I’m still can’t help but realize we’re gonna land in 46 minutes…and all these people are gonna go their own way and reenter their own story.  And I have to wonder if all of us from the conference will do the same?  If all of us in the Church will continue doing the same?  Will we choose to keep colliding on certain fronts, sharing airtime and elevation, but then isolate again when the rubber hits the runway?

Not sure what I’m meaning to say here, exactly, or if there’s every anything conclusive to say after all—heck, I’m thousands of feet in the air, so far from conclusive statements of precision.  I guess I just want us, and me, to be aware of the Churches full process in attempting to fly—the take-off and landing points, as much as the airtime in-between.  That we’d be grounds in our points of departure and destination, but risky in our willingness to head upwards.  I guess I just want our generation of disciples to be with the Bride in all parts of Her aisle—porch and alter, as well as airtime in between.  Flying high with lofty ideas and innovation is good, but its most important and challenging task is “landing well.”  Integrating successfully.  

The bad news is, I have no idea what this looks like.  For me.  For you.  For us.

But the good news is, the pilot just announced a grace period.  Seventeen minutes till landing.