Skyline Church, the Rancho San
Diego megachurch known for hosting conservative speakers such as Glenn
Beck and Texas Gov. Rick Perry, was harshly judged this week by a former
Episcopal bishop famed for defending gay marriage, including his own.
In a column for The Daily Beast, the Right. Rev. Gene Robinson wrote about attending a Sunday service at Skyline and finding a mood that turned dark. “In between the uplifting songs, the message is: They’re coming to get us. One by one, the speakers lay out the parameters of the siege under which Christians live, attacked by liberal and godless forces on every side.”
In a piece headlined “Even After Hobby Lobby, the Religious Right is Still Terrified,” Robinson wrote:
“Anti-gay sentiment is waning in American society, and with that forward progress, conservative churches will see a loss of credibility and a diminished effectiveness of their fear-mongering. That is as it should be. Neither the church nor the state is served by it.”
On Tuesday, Skyline senior pastor Jim Garlow responded.
Answering a Times of San Diego request for comment, Garlow said: “We did not know the writer was in the audience on that Sunday morning service. We did invite him to a Sunday night service.”
Here is Garlow’s full response to Robinson, which he termed “my thoughts.”...
I am struck by the starkness of the worship space: no windows, all black, no cross or stained glass, and not a single sign that this is a place of worship. A drum trap set is the only thing on the massive stage. It’s hard to tell, really, when the service starts; it just seems to grow organically, with additional people coming onto the stage over the course of 15 minutes, everyone dressed in jeans and comfortable clothing. The sense of expectation grows minute by minute.
The crowd gathering in the congregation is old and young. Some members are alone, some coupled, and lots of families, with kids in tow. And virtually all white. Everyone seems excited to be here. When things actually begin, it is as professional as any Broadway show, with fantastic music by a small band, and everyone is singing. Although there is a brief prayer early on, the service seems oddly devoid of any mention of God, much less Jesus. And within the first 10 minutes, the head minister announces that the time has come for what we’ve all been waiting for: the collection, the chance to give for the work and ministry of this place. And everyone cheers. That’s right, cheers! Wild applause, enthusiastic delight at the chance to contribute to the ministry.
The sermon is delivered by a guest preacher, whose main point seems to be the evils of feminism and sexual immorality. In the 40-minute “sermon,” there is hardly a mention of the Divine. “God” shows up about 30 minutes in, and Jesus is mentioned only once, at the last minute. The senior pastor delivers an additional message, imploring those present to return that evening for a debate about homosexuality (the reason I’m there—and to their credit, both sides are being represented). His explicit message is, “Come tonight! I cannot prepare you for the onslaught of immorality and anti-Christian fervor if you don’t come! There is a battle underway for your souls, and I intend to outfit you for a holy war!” Every message, action and gesture seems calculated to ratchet up the anxiety of those who are listening. And then it’s over. Just like that.
I honestly don’t know how typical such a service is among evangelicals, bent on making people fearful, but if you left that service feeling hopeful, at peace with God, and eager to help the poor and needy, then you weren’t paying attention. It is no wonder to me that many conservative, Christian people are fearful, and believe that there is a war on religion (especially Christians) in this country. After all, it is drummed into them every week...
In a column for The Daily Beast, the Right. Rev. Gene Robinson wrote about attending a Sunday service at Skyline and finding a mood that turned dark. “In between the uplifting songs, the message is: They’re coming to get us. One by one, the speakers lay out the parameters of the siege under which Christians live, attacked by liberal and godless forces on every side.”
In a piece headlined “Even After Hobby Lobby, the Religious Right is Still Terrified,” Robinson wrote:
Every message, action and gesture seems calculated to ratchet up the anxiety of those who are listening. And then it’s over. Just like that.Now a senior fellow at the liberal Center for American Progress, Robinson concluded his 1,100-word column posted Sunday with this:
I honestly don’t know how typical such a service is among evangelicals, bent on making people fearful, but if you left that service feeling hopeful, at peace with God, and eager to help the poor and needy, then you weren’t paying attention.
“Anti-gay sentiment is waning in American society, and with that forward progress, conservative churches will see a loss of credibility and a diminished effectiveness of their fear-mongering. That is as it should be. Neither the church nor the state is served by it.”
On Tuesday, Skyline senior pastor Jim Garlow responded.
Answering a Times of San Diego request for comment, Garlow said: “We did not know the writer was in the audience on that Sunday morning service. We did invite him to a Sunday night service.”
Here is Garlow’s full response to Robinson, which he termed “my thoughts.”...
by Eugene Robinson
Daily Beast
July 6, 2014
Conservative
evangelicals have internalized a besiegement narrative that doesn’t
change even when they win political victories. But fear has no place in a
properly Christian worldview.
There
is nothing intimidating about the building, other than its sheer size
and the many millions of dollars it took to build it. In fact, it is one
of the most welcoming places I’ve ever been. This conservative,
evangelical megachurch, just outside San Diego, is a hive of activity on
a Sunday morning. Upon entering, I’m drawn into the sophisticated cafĂ©
that makes Starbucks look like a 10-year-old’s sidewalk lemonade stand. I
get my latte and am assured that I am welcome to take it with me to my
seat in the church. I find a seat, which is plush and comfortable, and
sure enough, there’s a cup holder for my coffee.I am struck by the starkness of the worship space: no windows, all black, no cross or stained glass, and not a single sign that this is a place of worship. A drum trap set is the only thing on the massive stage. It’s hard to tell, really, when the service starts; it just seems to grow organically, with additional people coming onto the stage over the course of 15 minutes, everyone dressed in jeans and comfortable clothing. The sense of expectation grows minute by minute.
The crowd gathering in the congregation is old and young. Some members are alone, some coupled, and lots of families, with kids in tow. And virtually all white. Everyone seems excited to be here. When things actually begin, it is as professional as any Broadway show, with fantastic music by a small band, and everyone is singing. Although there is a brief prayer early on, the service seems oddly devoid of any mention of God, much less Jesus. And within the first 10 minutes, the head minister announces that the time has come for what we’ve all been waiting for: the collection, the chance to give for the work and ministry of this place. And everyone cheers. That’s right, cheers! Wild applause, enthusiastic delight at the chance to contribute to the ministry.
But soon, the mood turns dark. In between the uplifting songs, the message is: they’re coming to get us. One by one, the speakers lay out the parameters of the siege under which Christians live, attacked by liberal and godless forces on every side. An African-American minister from New York describes a change in policy in New York City to disallow churches to hold services in public schools, and his message is, “Beware. What’s happening in New York is headed your way! Get ready!”If you left that service feeling hopeful, at peace with God, and eager to help the poor and needy, then you weren’t paying attention.
The sermon is delivered by a guest preacher, whose main point seems to be the evils of feminism and sexual immorality. In the 40-minute “sermon,” there is hardly a mention of the Divine. “God” shows up about 30 minutes in, and Jesus is mentioned only once, at the last minute. The senior pastor delivers an additional message, imploring those present to return that evening for a debate about homosexuality (the reason I’m there—and to their credit, both sides are being represented). His explicit message is, “Come tonight! I cannot prepare you for the onslaught of immorality and anti-Christian fervor if you don’t come! There is a battle underway for your souls, and I intend to outfit you for a holy war!” Every message, action and gesture seems calculated to ratchet up the anxiety of those who are listening. And then it’s over. Just like that.
I honestly don’t know how typical such a service is among evangelicals, bent on making people fearful, but if you left that service feeling hopeful, at peace with God, and eager to help the poor and needy, then you weren’t paying attention. It is no wonder to me that many conservative, Christian people are fearful, and believe that there is a war on religion (especially Christians) in this country. After all, it is drummed into them every week...
Pastor’s Crucible: His Son’s Same-Sex Marriage
Father
and son had always been close, from the moment Tim Schaefer was born,
six weeks premature, with blood poisoning, a weak heart and lungs, and a
doctor who thought he would not make it through the night.
His
father, the Rev. Frank Schaefer, a United Methodist minister, thought
of his eldest son as a miracle child, saved by some combination of
medicine and prayer, saved for something special.
“We
couldn’t even touch him; he was in an incubator, and we had to reach in
with latex gloves through those holes in the sides,” Mr. Schaefer said.
“I begged God to please save his life.”
Their
bond was such that, years later, facing a choice between upholding his
church’s teaching and affirming his son’s sexual orientation, Frank
chose to endanger his own career by officiating at his son’s same-sex
wedding. The actions that followed — a rebellion in his congregation, a
church trial, a defrocking and then, last month, a reinstatement —
have made the Schaefers symbols of the conundrum facing much of
American Christianity: How does religious doctrine on homosexuality
respond to the longings for spirituality and community from congregants
and family members who are gay?...
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