Derrick Engoy

I always cringe when I think about the religion we have come to know—the careful, clean cut, compartmentalized corporation it has become. Whether Muslim or Buddhism and whether Christianity or Atheism, the world’s religions have created a chasm between humanity and the God of the universe. Religions have seemingly fashioned a protective orb that surrounds its members from those who aren’t like them. Religion has seemingly taken the place of God and have dictated what living a godly life means.

And it’s nothing new.

The teachers of the Law in Jesus’ day were no different. Their interpretation of the original laws became a set of standards that one needed to live by in order to be counted worthy of God’s grace. They surrounded God’s laws with so many traditional laws that it became nearly impossible for someone to be counted as God’s children—unless, of course, you were one of the religious teachers or a follower of this hierarchal way.

Don’t get me wrong. I love traditions. Traditions allow for a sense of connectedness to a particular people group and allow a pathway for rich history to take place within said group of people. Traditions allow generations to continue and thrive. Traditions allow for family holiday parties to continue over the years. Traditions, in the context of religion, allow for points of beginnings to be identified. And that’s a good thing.

But when man allows traditions to become God’s laws and are used as a means to control others, then the grace of God becomes distorted. God, in light of man’s manipulated mandates, is shrunk down to humanity’s level and, at times, even lower.

This is where Jesus comes in.

One of the first things that Jesus said when He stepped on the scene was, “I didn’t come to abolish the Law and the Prophets. I came to fulfill them (Matthew 5:17).” In other words, God stepped into human history and told these pre-first century religious folk that they got everything wrong. And, in Hugh Halter’s book, “Sacrilege,” that same spirit (of getting everything wrong in the Christian sense), flows throughout the folds of his writing.

Hugh asks the Christian a simple question: “Would Jesus call you a Pharisee?”

And this is the question a small group of “Christians” and I are also seeking to answer. What started out as a church’s young adults ministry has now become an intimate group of people exploring what it means to boldly and uncompromisingly  follow Jesus. It, as one person retells the story of a night where she couldn’t go to sleep after reading the first chapter of the book, has become the springboard away from the prettiness of the religion and into the arms and lap of the God of the universe.

Join me, over the next season, as I recount some of our conversations through this journey. Or, better yet, join us every Friday night at Portfolio Coffee House, in Long Beach, to explore what it means to stare religion in the face and choose to turn around and follow Jesus.

Thoughts?

Let’s talk.

I came across this TED Talk a while ago, but I thought it would be appropriate to repost for the new year. Enjoy!

“People don’t buy what you do, the buy why you do it.”

How Great Leaders Inspire Action

Thanks for all the support in the 2011. I’m definitely looking forward to a great 2012. Keep reading and keep commenting!

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,400 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 57 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

I cried yesterday.
Sobbed.

Wailed.
Bawled my eyes out.

Howled into the moon.
Sniveled.
Whimpered.
Squalled. 

Mewled and bleated.
Lamented.
Grieved.
Mourned.

Blubbered like a baby.
Turned on the waterworks.
Bemoaned.

I wept
For you.

When God told Moses to take off his sandals at the burning bush, the great I Am was indicating to the exodus leader that he was in the presence of the Almighty God. There was no ifs, ands or buts about it. Moses was to recognize that God was present and he would best benefit by understanding his place. The interesting thing about this whole scenario is that Moses wasn’t in a building nor was he at some altar space that most Christians would flock to for prayer at the end of a Sunday morning service.

Moses simply was in the presence of God.

Now, it’s important to note that Moses’ location—his physical whereabouts—wasn’t the key. It was, indeed, that he was in the presence of God.

The tension that I get as someone who tries to incorporate the arts with “church” is the notion that what we do on a given Sunday could fall along the borders of sacrilegious. Whether it’s using “secular” music as the backdrop to one of our videos or inviting non-Christians into the discussion of how we can become more artistically fluid, some would question the reverence we have for our Creator.

Hugh Halter, in his book “Sacrilege,” said it best when he writes, “What if holy ground is not in the church building? What if holy ground is those moments when we allow ourselves to be a vessel of light into a crevice of darkness and illuminate the beauty of God’s kingdom ways to those groping in a great void? … Holy ground [in defining altars] was found and defined as anywhere people pause to focus on and show gratitude to God.”

When we focus so much on our buildings as sacred space and the tiny details of what we should blare through our speakers or show on our video screens, we tend to miss those everyday moments where God wants to be experienced. We miss the actual holy ground where He’s present. We miss out on opportunities where we could embrace those holy ground moments in the form of a mother and her six children struggling to stay warm at night. We miss out on experiencing His presence during a father’s quest to work three jobs just to provide food on the table. We sidestep God’s holy ground emerging in the fold of a lonely Atheist or Buddhist or Muslim looking for comfort during the holidays.

When we nitpick at the style of musical worship or at the lack of formal attire by the pastoral staff, we bypass opportunities to experience God elsewhere.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying God isn’t present inside our church buildings (although, some would argue our churches are absent of God’s presence), but I am saying we put God in a box when we focus our efforts on making our church experience perfect.

Let’s move to experience God where ever we find ourselves—in and out of church. Because, if Moses experienced God through burning foliage, then our experience of God is endless.