First, an apology—of sorts. You were kind or, at least, curious enough to sign up for Pensamentos at some point. Honestly, I can’t even remember when I created the account and sent out invitations. In any case, I have not posted one thing on here since then. I could give you several good reasons for that, but the primary reason is I’ve been hesitant to post anything until I had a better grasp on what I wanted to write about and how to approach it.

So, what I’m working on now are some observations on the state of Christianity in my home country, the United States, and the theological and practical reverberations I’ve observed even here in Portugal. Like many, I was fascinated by the so-called Asbury Revival and the response it received from many different quarters, mostly religious and cultural but, oddly enough, some political. About the same time, Russell Moore, editor of Christianity Today, came out with a withering assessment of the current state of Evangelicalism, specifically calling out church-goers who still supported Mr. Trump, the MAGA movement, and Christian nationalism. Anecdotally, conversations with people from around the world who upon discovering I was 1) American and 2) Christian, asked hard questions and offered blunt and harsh critiques of the faith I’ve given heart and soul to for 65+ years. One young man in the parish to which I belong here in Lisbon told me recently that he and his wife had attended a Roman Catholic mass while visiting his wife’s mother in Florida. The homily that Sunday was directed toward Catholics who supported Biden in the last election. According to the priest, voting for Democratic candidates put one’s soul in danger: you could not be a Catholic in good standing (i.e. able to receive Holy Communion or any of the sacraments) and at the same time vote for Joe Biden or a Democrat.

Before you read any further, a spoiler alert. I’m not finished writing my first post on those observations. I did want to give you some background and a heads up about what is to come. You can then decide if you still want to receive these posts, share them with others, or print them out and burn them.

Whatever my observations, positions, or comments may be, they are informed by my experiences. Every person’s understanding of the Christian faith, theology, and especially interpretation of Scripture is influenced by several factors, including but not limited to experience. No matter what anyone tells you, your view of God, the world, and yourself is not formed in isolation. One of the best gifts anyone can give themselves, especially a Christian, is a good sense of self-awareness. Like it or not, the way we think about or interpret the Christian faith comes from our experiences, which can be a good thing or a bad thing, and often a little of both. For more information, read John Wesley.

Someone once asked me what color I would choose to describe my understanding of the Christian faith. My response: do you have a box of the 64-count crayons? I grew up in the Assemblies of God church, which is one of many denominations tracing their origin back to the Pentecostal revival at the turn of the last century. My father, grandfather, uncles, aunts, and cousins were, and some still are, Pentecostal pastors. In college, I was challenged to read the Bible critically (in a good way), read theology and church history, and be open to how other Christians understand and experience the faith. I learned about tradition and the martyrs and the great theologians of the Church. I learned Greek and Hebrew. Somewhere in my junior year of university, I became a Baptist, and a Southern Baptist, in case your are wondering, although the churches I attended and served in were moderate Baptists. About the same time, I discovered the Episcopal Church and Anglicanism. For years I flirted with this strange expression of the faith that professed to be both Catholic and Reformed. In 2003, I was confirmed in the Episcopal Church and was ordained to the priesthood a few years later. It is my intention to be buried out of an Episcopal/Anglican church.

While there are many things about Pentecostal and Baptist theology and practice I find inconsistent with what Jesus taught and practiced, I am grateful for what these two traditions taught me about God. From Pentecostals, I learned about the Holy Spirit, spontaneity in worship and the immediacy of the presence of God. From the Baptists, I learned about the Bible—how to read and interpret it—the centrality of the Kingdom of God, ordered worship, the Christian disciplines, and the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. The Anglican tradition has taught me about liturgy, the role of tradition, and a way of reading the Bible that takes seriously what one of my seminary professors called the “perspiscuity of Scripture.” I’ve learned, too, that is possible to navigate a middle way without compromising the the essential character and content of the Christian gospel. So, several different colors make up my theological palette.

So, knowing that labels can often be confusing, misleading, and subject to nuance and personal bias, I would describe myself as a progressive evangelical catholic. Let me explain. Progressive in the sense that I believe God is still revealing himself and his purpose for humankind through Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. Evangelical in the sense that I have a high view of Scripture and believe that a personal, ongoing encounter with Jesus Christ is not only possible but essential for the fulfillment of God’s desire that his image be fully restored in us. Catholic means that I see God’s hand at work in other Christian traditions and in church history, embrace the sacraments (all seven of them) as the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, and pray the unity of Christians will one day be restored. If you pressed for a more succinct description I would say: God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself. And then I would add: the whole darn Christian enterprise is about one thing—love—God’s love for us and the capacity we have to love God and each other as Jesus loved.

If you’re still reading, good! The next couple of posts are going to be about two very different subjects. The one that I’m working on now is about the state of Christianity in the West—which is in a big mess. The other one that I’ve started ruminating on has to do with retirement. Is there a theology of retirement? Could retirement be about letting go? I’m not sure, but it’s something I’m thinking about and plan to write about soon.

One more thing. Please feel free to comment or ask questions, but please be respectful if you disagree or feel strongly about something. That’s it for now. Thanks for reading!