Getting Drunk on Freedom?

It's a curious thing about our modern evangelical Christianity:

Alcohol consumption is suddenly expected of all of us.  Or at least it sure seems that way.

I can't have helped but notice how consistently the posts several of my Christian friends make on Facebook involve alcohol consumption.  As cohorts, my unsaved friends hardly ever mention alcohol on Facebook, but if you didn't know any better, you'd think these evangelical friends of mine are alcoholics.

And of course, I can't really say that out loud, because then I'd be branded a legalist.  I'd be denying my brothers and sisters in Christ their freedoms.  I'm the one who has unBiblical views regarding alcohol, not my friends who seem to talk about it all the time.

But isn't regularly talking about alcohol one of the tell-tale signs that you might be an alcoholic?

Then again, isn't regularly talking about Christians who drink alcohol one of the tell-tale signs that you might be legalistic?

So for the most part, I keep my mouth shut.  You already know that I personally don't drink, but not because I believe the Bible teaches that drinking is a sin.  Drunkenness - and, by extension, alcoholism - is a sin, but the reason I don't drink is because my father's father was a drunken sot whose inebriation destroyed his family.  I'm not convinced alcoholism isn't at least partly genetic, and since I already have an oral fixation with food and am struggling with the sin of gluttony, I hardly need to flirt with disaster when it comes to alcohol.

Yet the grace I'm supposed to show fellow Christians who may sin with too much alcohol somehow seems to evaporate when it comes to my ample girth - a dead giveaway that I have an overeating problem.  So, am I simply jealous that my sin is harder to hide?  People can joke about other fat people - it's socially acceptable.  But to suggest somebody has a problem with alcohol is somehow a violation of grace.

I have other family members who don't drink, either; again, not because they view it as sinful behavior, but because they're frugal, and they're already embarrassed by the amount of money they spend on soft drinks.  They've commented on how even in the sermons at their evangelical church, more and more references to alcohol consumption have been noticeable.

A couple of other evangelical friends have decided to give up alcoholic beverages, but not because they think it's sinful.  They're both trying to lose weight, and wine, and especially beer, are surprisingly loaded with stuff weight-watchers should be avoiding.  One of them mentioned that it's kinda put a crimp in his socializing - he hadn't realized how often he went out with friends from church to bars.

Back when I lived in New York City, I remember attending parties with church friends where there was no alternative to liquor but water from the kitchen faucet.  One of my former bosses, a Christian who's now retired, told me recently that as far as she knew, besides her own husband, I was her only friend - either saved or unsaved - who didn't drink.  She and her daughter used to have lunch dates regularly, but since her daughter began drinking a few years ago, they hardly ever get together anymore.  At her daughter's 50th birthday party, my friend and her husband - her parents - weren't even invited, since it was being held at a piano bar.  My friend's husband, who is a fanatical golfer and is used to be ribbed about his tea-totaling (or is it tee-totaling) from his golfing buddies in the clubhouse, tells her that's just the way it is.  Don't say anything.  As far as everyone else is concerned, we're the odd ones out.

And he's right.  Alcohol has come out of the Christian closet, and is the new normal.  And for the most part, I'm OK with that.  It's just that at those moments when you realize some of your Christian friends seem to have a preoccupation with alcohol, and you realize if you say something, it's you who's immediately at fault because they'll accuse you of legalism; what then?

Are some evangelicals using the threat of accusing us of legalism as a way to prop up what may be a not-so-innocent problem with alcohol?  Some evangelicals seem to be particularly focused on enjoying what used to be a forbidden freedom, at least in fundamentalist American Christianity.  And they think they have more rights to flirt with abuse than those of us who more strongly respect the dangers of alcohol.

No-win situations like this can't be what Christ expects for His people, which actually, in addition to my alcoholic grandfather, may be becoming yet another reason to validate my wariness of drinking.  And drinkers.

If I'm being the one silenced at the price of your exploitation of our freedoms, how free does that make you?  How is this any progress from the fundamentalism that refused to acknowledge that plain, old, ordinary, non-drunken drinking isn't a sin?

Shouldn't we all know our limits?

Why should my even suggesting that be off-limits?
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Modeling Fashion Passion for Preachers

Oh!  You've GOT to be kidding me!

This is way, waaayyyy too easy!

But hey - it's Friday!  We all need a good laugh every now and again, don't we?  Only, if you're like me, you can't laugh for long at this before you start shaking your head in disgust.

What is it?  It's the inimitable pastor Ed Young of Fellowship Church in Grapevine, Texas.  And his latest endeavor for the Kingdom of God:  pastor fashion.

No, I kid you not.  Pastor fashion.  As in www.pastorfashion.com.

This is not a joke.  Well, OK, yes; it IS a joke, but not according to Ed Young.  The same guy that trotted out a caged lion for Easter Sunday services this year also thinks his peers in the pulpit set need a wardrobe consultant.  And he thinks he's the perfect guy to dispense fashion advice.

Hey - I can't make this stuff up.  The same guy I've faulted for prancing around in clothes that are too young for him now claims that the skimpy-suit, cuffed-jeans look needs to be taught along with the doctrine of grace.

Actually, I thought the doctrine of grace means we shouldn't be concerned about how we think other people look.  We're not to assume things based on outward appearances, because God looks at the heart, right?  To hear Young tell it, however, the right shirt colors, tie knots, and accessories are pretty important.  Of course, preachers of Young's ilk have been accessorizing the Gospel for years, so I guess this is the next logical extension of the seeker/contemporary mindset.

If you're gonna preach, you've gotta have swag.  Don't believe me?  Take it from the self-appointed expert:



In his defense - and yes, he's serious - Young told the Houston Chronicle that his latest venture is “not just about fashion. It’s about looking presentable as we present the timeless message of Christ. It’s about having a healthy self-esteem, which starts with God. That’s why we’re doing this.”

It could be said that the people who worry the most about their looks are the people who lack self-esteem.  Young's concern about appearance also lends significant - almost overwhelming - support to the practice of more liturgical churches like the one I attend, where the men who preach do so wearing a simple black robe over their clothing.  That way, distractions that may be caused by a curious shirt/tie combination or an ill-fitting suit are negated, and you find yourself concentrating very little on the preacher himself.  Which is a good thing, right?

Does Young even offer good advice on his site?  Not really.  A blue shirt he wears for a video - in which he touts his knowledge of matching colors with skin types - looks awful against his complexion.  A complexion which is tanned to perfection, which means a more pastel blue makes for a more complimentary shade.

In another video, Young raves about the white sportcoat being modeled by one of his fellow pastors, but the sportcoat's fit is abominable, with the lapels puckering outward as the garment is buttoned in the front.  Obviously, the back panels of the sportcoat have been taken in to within an inch of its life.  Young claims that if a sportcoat's fit is comfortable, it doesn't fit.  They're supposed to be tailored on the skimpy side, according to him, which is an absurd assertion - for anybody who has to spend time in a suit - to make.

Granted, my education in men's fashion took place decades ago at a proper gentlemen's clothier, which helps illustrate yet another flaw in Young's thinking.  For the most part, fashion is arbitrary, relative, subjective, and trendy.  The Gospel of Jesus Christ is, thankfully, none of those things.  Yet there are some basics about fashion upon which most reasonable people generally agree.  So, as long as we're on the subject, here's what really works.

A good suit is a suit you're comfortable living in all day long.  Its jacket needs to be tailored to match the contours of your shoulders, back, chest, and belly.  Its pants should be lined to the knees, to maximize comfort around the crotch when you're sitting and minimize wrinkles, and its seat and waist need to have just the right balance between roominess and snugness.  A good-fitting suit is really a work of art, and depends more on the tailor than the fabric, which means they don't have to cost a king's ransom.  But of course, the better the fabric, the longer it will last.

Young is probably the first man I've heard complain about having too much fabric in his shirt sleeves.  That's probably because the guy works out, and he wants to show off the gain from his pain.  Real people appreciate the roominess properly-crafted shirt sleeves afford.  They shouldn't be flouncy like those girlie bouffant sleeves, but they should not constrain movement, either.  At least Young is right about sleeve length:  sleeves that ride up on the wrist look as uncomfortable as they feel.

And I'll go ahead and proclaim this truth:  there's no such thing as a short sleeved dress shirt!  Just as there shouldn't be any such thing as, frankly, PastorFashion.com.

Shouldn't congregations be more concerned about how the Gospel fits in their pastor's heart?  Here's a hint:  the Gospel should overflow from it, not fit nicely into it, like Young's wardrobe.

And if a congregation cares about how tight his jeans need to be, that pastor has far graver issues confronting him than which color of shirt to wear today.
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