It’s official – I’m an Episcopal Blogger. I applied to have this blog put on the Episcopal Blooger Webring a few days ago and now I’ve been approved. There isn’t anything officially Episcopalian about this blog, though I have been confirmed recently at St Paul’s Cathedral in San Diego. I may write about my journey of joining the Episcopal Church in the future. In the meantime, I’ve been writing about my experiences in graduate school.
June, 2006
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Jun 06
If You Want To Go To Grad School (Part 12)
This post picks up where Part 11 left, exploring the writing workshop with Joe, AKA Professor Joseph K. Dr. Jules had managed to break my confidence. I also felt lost as a writer.
A young writer faces many challenges. The main challenge (which the others fall under) is the issue of material. Many young writers have not had much life experience, yet they absolutely want to write. No doubt they burn with energy and desire to create something and say something, to show others how they see things. Some have incredibly fertile imaginations, while others don’t. Many writers fall between the two. As a result, there is much experimenting to find one’s voice. One story form is tried after another, narrators change persons, characters become gay (or something else to make them interesting), attempts at cleverness are tried, and writers attempt to write in literary language. And a young writer is often not grounded to withstand other influences.
In the workshop, these influences are praise and criticism. It’s easy for a writer to become sloppy with her writing if she gets praise and little else. She may keep going, making the same crucial error after crucial error, because no one points it out to her. Praise is definitely a confidence booster, but it can also cause an ego trip. Criticism is an often misunderstood word. Criticism can (and often) comes across as tearing someone down. It’s associated with maliciousness and there is often malice by people who employ criticism in this manner. Ideally, criticism for the writer should be constructive, to help them make their works better. A good critic has an idea of what the writer is trying to say and addresses it.
I often received praise from Joe in the beginning. He praised me for my scholarship, my comments in class, and for my creativity in during the first half of the limbo year. It definitely raised my confidence. I’ve never been a good literary scholar. I wasn’t bad; I often received B+’s in literature courses and sometimes I had those moments where I wrote or said something highly original in those classes. Perhaps I wasn’t skilled in the language of literary analysis, I didn’t read the texts hard enough, or a combination of both. There was one case in undergraduate school where we had an essay quiz on Othello. I read the act, but a classmate came in and hadn’t. I gave her a synopsis of the act and then we took our quizzes. I got a B and she got an A. It was through sheer imagination she got through the quiz, and it made me wonder if some “A” students in literature were better at talking their way through it. Given this, I had managed to impress Joe in his literature courses. I always knew I was higher in the creative side, but had little confidence. Often, my fellow students did not get what I was trying to do with the stuff I presented in workshops. Sometimes the teacher didn’t get it either. Joe seemed to grasp what I was about when I first presented a story to him. Or did Joe simply form an idea that he had about me?
So, when I presented the work that amended my portfolio, Joe had high praise for it. He even presented careful line edits. But this seemed to decline as the semester progressed. Joe never even sent me an in absentia response for the second story (reviewed by the class while he was away for a reading). When Gillian and I did an e-mail exchange using the personas of Edie Sedgwick and Valerie Solanis, he gave me a mixed response – I got Solanis’s obsessiveness but lacked the panache. His response to my third story was lukewarm. As I mentioned in the previous post, I did not take it well.
It was difficult to hear other writers get praised at this time, especially Harlan, Jill, and Dr. Jules. They weren’t great, but it seemed important to stroke these novices. Sometimes, this form of positive reinforcement can lead to disappointment. Joe praised the work of someone in a previous workshop and she sent it to the journal for consideration. I read the story, but I really didn’t like it. Since she knew Joe, I passed it on to him and he rejected it. I don’t know how she took it, but it certainly must have been a shock. Joe did give me helpful comments, but I don’t think I was really listening. Instead, I fought within myself about being jealous for cheap praise.
I mentioned in the previous post that Dr. Jules’s comments destroyed me. If a writer has little confidence, then it is possible to let the mean comments of others get to them. In one of his moments of wisdom, Joe told me that I shouldn’t worry about what others think of me. In Bonnie Friedman’s Writing Past Dark, she mentions a Chinese proverb that says if one worries about someone’s approval, then they are their prisoner. It’s easy to let the Dr. Jules of the world take us prisoner. Then there are people less malevolent than Dr. Jules, the peers of the workshop. If the story is written to meet their approval, then it ceases to be a story. It’s a stripped down version of the story. Regardless of how the criticism is delivered, a writer needs to be careful. A thick skin helps. But the ability to see if it is useful or useless criticism is more important.
It was hard for me to listen, to filter out what was helpful. It was also difficult for me to stay focused. I was busy commuting to an east county community college for a tutoring gig, doing whatever was needed with Professor K’s journal, and doing work for “Madness In Literature” seminar. There was no real time to develop studio habits. I was successful with a literary experiment, but how could I keep it up, once it demanded that I continue the story?
I think this is where the decline started. I don’t think I was being served as a writer. I was busy serving Joe. I knew Jackson was getting served and he was becoming friends with Joe. I felt I had to work to get Joe’s approval. Jackson didn’t. Or perhaps he was serving Joe by being in his orbit. I remember feeling resentful at one point, but swallowed it. Like any poision, the resentment would not go away. It was deep inside and it would only be a matter of time before I was aware of it again. But that was months away.
At the end of the semester, Tomas asked me to e-mail everyone to announce his graduation party. Holly sent me an interesting response. She joked that it seemed that Joe was farming out my services and that there should be a labor union set up for me. I chuckled, but a year later, I wished there was a union to mediate between Joe and me. And a year after that, I would help Stevie do the groundwork for a graduate student workers’ union at the University.
To be continued…
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Jun 06
How Low Can You Go?
The gay marriage issue is the limbo stick of the GOP. Bush’s ratings have been sagging (and he’s a lame duck for the next few years), so he and his cronies are seeking to do as much damage as they can. For all their tough talk, they really can’t address the real issues this nation faces: oil prices, the war, employment, and that they’ve given us an enormous deficit. He’s looking out for his successor, but if his people don’t get into office, then it’s a problem for the next President’s administration. Here’s the article on Newsweek: “Can Gay Marriage Help The GOP?“
The Reverend Susan Russell, the national president of Integrity, posted what she said on Capitol Hill concerning this issue. I’m glad she spoke up. It is a danger to our liberties. It’s also hurtful that the GOP considers gays and lesbians to be acceptable scapegoats to detract from whatever issues are ailing them.
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Jun 06
More links on the literary fiction issue…
Myers’s article has had a number of responses. That they’e still accessible after five years shows the issue of “literary” fiction’s merit is a hot one.
Salon.Com featured one of the more reasable, measured responses to Myer’s “Manifesto” in “Sentenced to Death” by Laura Miller.
Robert McCrum’s response points to the issue that “the emperor has no clothes” in “The End of Literary Fiction.”
The New York Times issued this response a month after Myers’ article: “The Close Reader.”
Here’s a more recent one, from last year. Ezra Klein writes a very brief entry on the subject, the discussion posts that follow alludet to the hoopla of a few years ago.
This discussion takes place in Australia as well. Malcolm Knox of the Sydney Morning Herald writes an excellent definition of what good literary fiction is in “Fiction as Reality Check.” While not directly a response to Myers, it is a very good counter-argument to his article.
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Jun 06
More links on articles critical of MFA programs
Hey young writer,
Considering enrolling in an MFA program? Do you have a unique voice that you want to develop? Do you think you can achieve it with an MFA program?
I’m an MFA graduate. For me, this was a holy grail as a young, developing writer. Somehow, I was good enough to get into a program, even if my sponsoring professor had some ulterior motives. One of the ironies was that I was too damn busy to write while in grad school. My career got wrapped up in Joe’s cult of personality. Then I was focused on teaching and just trying to survive academically.
I had one of the most unique projects, which really was not suited for the workshop at all. It is hard to deal with a text that is both image and calligraphy in a consensus-based setting. When it came time to do my thesis, I did it off-campus, rather than come to the envirment that threatened to strip away the pitch and the tone that was unique about my voice.
Read what an MFA drop-out has to say about the MFA programs – Elizabeth Clementson’s guest column on Mobylives: “Down With The MFA.” I think it’s interesting what she says about the MFA program’s relationship with “literary fiction.” The point she raises about some of our great writers is also poignant – hardly any of them went through an MFA program. Their work would never last in one – Kafka, Borges, and Alfred Bester (one of my favorite sci-fi writers and stylist extraordinaire) would not be seen as acceptable. It also brings up the question – does a writer really need an MFA to write?
Five years ago, the infamous “Reader’s Manifesto” was published in the Atlantic Monthly. I don’t completely agree with B.R. Myers, but it’s worth looking at to think about why are these banal, ephemeral novels on the bookshelves of Barnes & Noble and Borders. Why is this boring attempt at artfulness in vogue? While Myers never addresses the MFA program, other writers such as Chris Altacruise and Elizabeth Clementson have seen this uniform style as symptomatic. WARNING: You need to be a subscribe of Atlantic Monthly in order to access archived articles. Here’s reader’s manifesto Googled, where you can also access criticsm on Myers’s essay and expanded book.
Do you want to get into an MFA program? Read Ann Emmert Abbott’s “MFA Dreams” in Writer’s Digest. It gives a general overview of the program, but it’s like the blanket brochure. If you’re game, do your homework.
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Jun 06
Reference to Iowa
My reference to Iowa in a previous post is a reference to a style associated with the Iowa Workshop, which is the mother of all MFA creative writing programs. It was the first of its kind over 70 years ago, and has boasted of famous alumni ranging from Flannery O’Connor to Alan Gurganus. When I mention it in terms of style, I am referring to a typical writing style that is glossy (pretty metaphors are a hallmark), banal in its subject matter (trailer parks and suburbia), and full of ennui. Fashionably boring. Perhaps Raymond Carver is to blame, because much of it is an emulation of his work.
Chris Altacruise (a pseudonym) has authored one of the most famous attacks on MFA programs and the style it has created. Iowa comes across as the epitome of this style in his/her article.
I’ve come across this recent article by Sam Sacks: “The Fiction Machine.” While I may not learn nothing new about MFA programs here, what Sacks says is important. He presents specific evidence for what he says and provides good basis for his arguments (I’ve definitely been there, done that). Yes, it’s an attack on the MFA, particularly Iowa, model, and brings up the question of why good fiction hasn’t come out it.
Jeffrey Yamaguchi explores if the MFA program is really necessary for a writer in “How To Become the next great American novelist: A look at MFA creative writing programs and other ways to make it as a writer.”
An article by Joseph M. Schuster on the pitfalls of pursuing an MFA program.
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Jun 06
If You Want To Go To Grad School (Part 11)
The second semester of my “limbo” year” would define my relationship with Joe, AKA Professor K, and perhaps forshadow its decline. I had become so close to Joe so quickly. I had only barely known him for a year and I was housesitting for him. And then, my professional, academic, and writerly lives became tightly intertwined and were difficult to untangle from Joe.
The second semester of the limbo year was one where I took a fiction workshop and a graduate seminar entitled “Madness In Literature” from Joe. I also continued to work on a volunteer basis for his journal. I had keys to his office, so I had a place where I could hang my coat and leave the backpack behind when wandering the campus. It was also a quiet space where I could go to do some writing or read a book. I only had to do the things Joe asked me to do, and they never took too long.
I took the “Madness in Literature” course, scheduled on Tuesday evenings, mostly because of Joe’s subtle jealousy episode in December. I wanted to take Tatiyana’s workshop, which was also scheduled at the same time as Joe’s seminar, but Joe prevailed. Though I may lament the lost opportunity with Tatiyana, a few good things did come out of my enrollment in Joe’s class. However, I’ll get into that later.
But, I wanted to take a writing workshop, and Joe offered one on Thursday evenings. Joe had become acquainted with my writing from the Form and Theory class. Most of these were writing exercises, one of which evolved into a short story, which would later get published alongside Joe’s. Joe gave a space for me to break out of the mold that was set for writers. I never wanted to write in the “Iowa” style (which is prevalent in contemporary American “literary” fiction) and Joe’s interest in post-modern and outsider narratives seemed ideal. I was interested in making pictures and integrating them with writing. It was easy to see this inclination as post-modern. I would later see it as Romantic.
The workshop was a very small one. Tomas, Joe’s longtime assistant, was in his thesis semester and just taking the class to pass time. Holly, another longtime assistant of Joe’s, was also in her thesis semester. Holly was a Japanese-American who was quite focused on her writing. She had a slight speech impediment, but managed to make herself heard. Andrew, the quiet one, definitely spoke in this small group setting. Gillian, the hipster chick on her to middle-class motherhood, added some sass, wit, and humor to the class. She was definitely one of my allies in the class. Like me, she was not a graduate student, but developed a long-term writer relationship with Joe and also hoped to get into the program at one point. Harlan was a blond but bland southern California young man who was developing as a writer. His stylistic inconsistency would point to that. Jill, a graduate architecture student, took the class as an elective. She definitely seemed very suburban. Jackson, a famous runner in his prime, took to writing as a life change. He was an avid surfer and looked the part with his leathery skin and faded blond hair. Of course, Dr. Jules was in the class. Dr. Jules was a retired physician who started taking Joe’s classes on a lark. He then decided he wanted to be a writer and hoped to use his connection with Joe to get into the MFA program. He was a negative presence for sure.
During the first week of class, I wrote a sequel to my hybrid story. I remember writing it all in one day and submitting it for the second week of class. Like the previous one, this work was a series of pen drawings surrounded by crude calligraphy. There was a picture of a glove, the diva and her Elvis-like lover, and one where the diva would make Foxy Brown proud by kicking the offending psychiatrist’s ass. Joe and the class, with the exception of Dr. Jules, gave the story a good reception. Joe took it one step further. The English Department had my application packet for the MFA program, and Joe gave me permission to submit this recent work to amend my portfolio.
As the class progressed, I got to see everyone else’s writing styles. Gillian’s stories were ironic, humorous, and entertaining. Dangerous Liaisons comes to mind for some of them, translated in a more 21st century, urban context. Holly had the most literary style of anyone in the class. Tomas wrote stories based on his boyhood in Tijuana. Andrew had lots of energy and ideas, but hardly the depth and breadth to sustain them. His stories, though imaginative, were often unfinished, and his prose style was extremely slender. Everything Harlan brought to the workshop was an experiment. It was more the experimentation of someone who hasn’t developed his voice versus an artistic one. Jackson was interested in writing novels and was extremely verbose. His work, like an overgrown tree, needed heavy pruning. Jill became competent in the form of a story, though they were often boring. Dr. Jules was a marginally competent writer who dished out harsh criticism for most the class. However, he became a big fan of Gillian’s hipster intrigue stories. He was also very adversarial towards me.
With the two stories following the first story I submitted, I remembered Dr. Jules comments the most. With the second story, he e-mailed me a note explaining he could not show up to class along with a critique. It seemed thoughtful of him despite the harshness of the critique. However, he piously decided to come to class. I honestly hoped he wouldn’t come. Whatever constructive or helpful things were said before were cancelled out by Jules’s comments. Joe was not present for that session and I never received a critique from him. The third story I presented was written during one of my house sittings for Joe. It described the narrator’s trip to LA and his search for his diva while there. All the images were of things in LA, but the diva was absent. When Joe offered me a critique in his office before class, I got a bit defensive. I did not put up arguments with him, but I found it hard to listen to any critical comments he had to offer. He felt the work needed to go beyond its bathos or end. It’s a fair critique. Somehow, I took it as an attack and definitely felt attacked when Dr. Jules had offered his critique in class. He had e-mailed it to me as well.
I normally got a ride home after class from Tomas or Gillian. I took the bus home that night. During the ride, I read the printed e-mail over and over. One of my earlier creative writing teachers suggested putting the critiques aside and reading them a week later. It was like a Christmas present I couldn’t wait to open, I just had to read it even if the time wasn’t right. I obsessed over it; I even showed it to my brother. He didn’t think it was helpful at all and said it seemed like Dr. Jules was doing this to peck at me. The question was, why did I care about Dr. Jules’ opinion so much?
When talking with my friends about the workshops, Dr. Jules became this ridiculous old man whose unremarkable mind was incapable of understanding creativity. He was the archconservative voice in the class and would only praise things that were easy for him to comprehend. All of us on some level knew he was never going to be the target reader for a literary work. His thinking was too facile for that. However, he was loud and assertive. I should have recognized him for what he was – a bully. I subconsciously did – I had a lot of fantasies of my narrator’s diva beating him up real good. It wasn’t enough. I could hear his voice loud and clear in my head, even when I wasn’t reading his critiques. Dr. Jules became the personification of my doubts as a writer.
To be continued…
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Jun 06
Shindo goes to church (a review)
This morning, my friend and I went to Missiongathering, a new, “post-modern” church that meets in newly renovated North Park Theatre on University Avenue. As I mentioned in a previous post, this Sunday was the grand opening, interestingly enough on Pentecost day. I waited for my friend to arrive because I didn’t want to walk into the door myself. I felt very uneasy the day before about Missiongathering. I almost did not go. It was important for my friend to want to check this out, and I definitely had to face my fears, so I went. Thankfully, I did not walk into the door alone.
I was relieved to hear that he was just as nervous. Like me, he has also had a long and unhappy history with evangelicalism/fundamentalism. He told me that some friends of his invited him to a similar church in Portland called Imago Deo, but he definitely felt apprehensive then. A year ago, he told me about visiting with friends an affirming church in San Diego that had displayed a banner that said JESUS TRANSFORMS! He wanted to yell out BULLSH*T, but didn’t. It made perfect sense to me. Sometimes “transform” was simply a code word for “conform.”
I’ve had a few Horizon flashbacks when walking into the Theatre. Interestingly enough, the North Park Theatre was one of the earliest venues of Horizon Christian Fellowship, Calvary Chapel’s huge San Diego satellite, during the 1970′s. I have to admit I’m not too fond of Calvary Chapel or its offshoots. Despite preaching for grace and against dogma, I’ve found Horizon to be severely legalistic and a front for the right wing. And it was all done with a laid back southern California attitude, casual clothing and hair styles, and Jesus rock.
My friend said that Brian McLaren‘s books being sold were a good sign. McLaren has certainly taken some flack from fundamentalists for not alienating gays. I’m not completely sure McLaren stands on this issue, but he’s not hostile.
There was complimentary Starbucks coffee and pastries in the lobby. We helped ourselves to some and found ourselves some seats. Trade paperback NIV Bibles were available for the taking at the back of the theatre. A good amount of people, most of them 20 and thirty somethings, filled the theatre.
Perhaps the theatre is an appropriate venue for Missiongathering. On the stage, there was a space for the church band, a trio of young men in the band t-shirt and jeans. It was a simple guitar, bass, and drums arrangement. Next to the band were the illuminated, gothic arch, stain-glass windows props. Off the stage next to the and on stage next to the “windows” were two screens to show videos, lyrics, and the Scripture reading. The altar, which was given a more hip term, was on the center of the lower stage.
The service began with a video that introduced Missiongathering. This consisted of sound bytes with ministry team members and random worshippers giving their opinions about Missiongathering. The music minister commented that Radiohead’s OK Computer was an influential album to him. A few of the members commented on how the church was new and vital. One young woman commented on how she grew up in a Christian family and tradition got in the way. She wasn’t that articulate. There were a few glitches in presenting the video. The sound went out a few times. My friend mentioned the video reminded him of an infomercial after the service.
The crowd was then treated to the worship band, which reminded me of the Violet Burning, a Christian band my friend and I are familiar with, though the singer was ok and the lyrics were shallow. The singer played his guitar with a jangly groove that was similar to that of the Violet Burning’s. At one point, everyone was clapping their hands except me. I just couldn’t get into it.
The minister who spoke before the offering opened up with something borrowed from liturgy: The peace of the Lord be with you. The appropriate response is, “And also with you,” though very few people (my friend and I among them) said it the first time. He had to work the crowd to say it again.
A man and a woman got up on stage to read a Gospel passage – the story of how Jesus saves the woman from getting stoned. They took turns reading the verses, which were also projected on the screens. This struck me too as a tradition borrowed from the Catholicism/Anglicanism, though they usually do the reading from the lectern.
Then the pastor came on stage and expounded on the passage. Like most of the team, he was casually dressed with his button-up shirt tucked into his jeans. He was also looked very nerdy with his glasses. The mike attached to his shirt did not work, so he had to hold a cordless mike, which he joked made him look like a televangelist. He originally stood at the music stand to look at his sermon, but he soon paced the stage, becoming worked up about what the gospel passage meant. The sermon went on for a while, but he was incredibly clear. He then lead into communion, breaking the large loaf of bread into two halves in the manner of an Episcopal celebrant. Communion stations were set up in the four corners of the auditorium (with wine in the front and grape juice in the back) and the pastor was at the left end of the stage.
My friend and I went to where the pastor was and broke our pieces of bread and dipped them in the wine. I would have normally drunk out of the chalice, but since it was glass, not silver, I felt it was better to dip the bread. When I put my put my piece of the bread in the glass of wine held by the pastor, he put his hand on my shoulder. This is where I encountered his energy. It was intense, powerful.
For the opening of the church, the public was treated to a Pat and Oscar’s lunch behind the theatre. All one had to do was to present a ticket that was stapled in the program. My friend and I enjoyed the lunch and then went to the Starbucks in front of the Theatre. U2 music was playing as to say they identify with Bono’s Christianity. Bono as a Christian has always been fascinating to me because he’s never fit in with a church or anyone’s idea of what a Christian should be. He’s often done things that no one understands (such as the theatrics of the 1990′s) and has done things a lot of American evangelicals wouldn’t certainly consider (such as the Jubilee project).
It was in interesting experience, to say the least. The tone was anti-traditional. Traditional churches are spoken of as symbols of spiritual or personal abuse, and even hypocrisy. Religion is a bad word to them. This has all been said before. I’ve heard it when I went to Horizon. People would claim they were not religious, yet their narrow views of Christianity and the Bible dominated their conversations. Claiming not to be religious is double talk. Interestingly enough, my friend and I observed that Missiongathering borrowed several traditions, most notably Catholic/Episcopalian in their service. In the post-modern spirit of things, they appropriated traditions that were good and beautiful; however, this was not acknowledged. For being inclusive, the pastor mentioned people being excluded for several reasons, but stopped short at mentioning gays, a key demographic in the North Park, South Park, and Hillcrest areas. It could be some people may harbor anti-gay attitudes, but don’t want to alienate potential members. Who knows? It’s too early to tell. My friend and I aren’t inclined to return, but we faced our monsters together.
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Jun 06
Another book I’m reading
So far, I’m enjoying The Essential Basho, translated by Sam Hamill. So far, I’m reading Narrow Road to the Interior. There are a lot of beautifully concise entries about the places he visited and his thoughts about them. He throws in his haiku, which he is famous for, and he also quotes others, such as Sora, a friend of his, Butcho, his darma teacher, and some other poets.
I also started to read Richard Holloway’s Doubts and Loves: What is Left of Christianity. Holloway is a former Bishop of Edinburg and definitely looks at things from an Anglican perspective. I’m sure Doubts and Loves will definitely challenge some deeply cherished views Christians seem to love. I’ll say more when I’m done.
I’m still processing Natalie Goldberg’s Long Quiet Highway. As a work of spiritual autobiography, it’s fascinating. Her relationship with Buddhism is key, because she never belittles the traditions her teachers came from from. I am thinking about that in the light of what I have experienced this morning at Missiongathering.
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Jun 06
Reservations about Church
A friend of mine invited me to come to the grand opening of a church tomorrow. He’s been curious about this “emerging church” and the movement it’s associated with. The emerging church movement has gained some prominence with a progressive writer and minister, Brian McLaren, who has no theological training at all. He does, however, hold both a BA and an MA in English, and he’s a very sharp and articulate thinker. This church with the grand opening calls itself Missiongathering, and it certainly has started itself with a lot of fanfare.
Earlier this week, I recieved a glossy booklet from Missiongathering in my mailbox. It was full of bright, bold colors and images and contained texts explaining its statement of purpose and the events Missiongathering plans for the community at large. A PR firm would be foolish not to hire whoever put the booklet together.
I checked out the website. Equally impressive. The aesthetic is more unified, pop-etherial, the type of artwork you’d expect to see on a Sarah McLachlan or a Delerium album cover. The explanation of Missiongathering’s beliefs are vague, couched in rhetorical terms such as “progressive,” “authentic,” “organic,” and “post-modern.” Even with these words, I still did not get a concrete sense of what this church is about.
I have to admit I’m uncomfortable. I’m not sure exactly why. I’ll explore several possible reasons.
An obvious reason to me is my history with evangelicalism. I’ve had quite an unhappy history with born-again/fundamentalist Christianity, largely due to the homophobia many took to be sacramental. The other thing I’ve never liked about this school of belief was that it often limited the freedom of the believer in many areas, replacing spirituality with dogma. Missiongathering claims that they are against dogma, but I’m not reassured at this moment.
I’ve never been fond of contemporary worship formats. I’ve often hated the music. This was certainly the case of a church that played adult contemporary rock for its praise songs. Missiongathering seems to be more on the indie pop side, and I’m probably guaranteed to hate it too.
The last time I got involved in a church where people were disillusioned with mainstream Christianity, it was a CULT! I can’t say this is so with Missiongathering, but the ministry team gives me the impression of being a bunch of upstarts. The American religious landscape is filled with the products of people who went and started their own church or religion – Mormonism, Jehovah’s Witnesses, strange new age religions, Scientology, the Assembly, and Calvary Chapel. Because there is no real sense of history in America, what’s new is often sought after, and that is certainly the case with spirituality, without learning what was good and what truly was wrong with the old. Americans are spiritually hungry people and that’s what makes them vulnerable.
Tomorrow, I’ll skip my usual 10:30 am service at St Paul’s and attend Missiongathering with my friend. I’m not joining. However, I’ll try to keep an open mind, given the reservations I expressed in this post. If my friend likes Missiongathering and decides to attend, I’ll support him. I hope he finds what he seeks in his spiritual life.
