Another Helping of Christianese, Please

Recent conversations over at The Ooze have reminded me what I don't miss about going to a typical church, namely "Christianese." If you've gone to church much or hung around many Christians, then you've heard Christianese. It's that secret language those people use to communicate things about God, faith and right living. I've blogged before about the bad taste it leaves in my mouth.

I guess my detoxification is complete, because when I hear Christianese now, I get that queesy feeling...like when Mom broke out a new can of Chop Suey. Yum! Well, when discussions began about what Jesus wants from his followers and how one "gets to know God," I got that same sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Sure, Jesus wants us to love God and love others, but when you ask most Christians what it truly means to love God, you'll get a myriad of answers. As one participant in the discussion describes it, you should go on dates with God. Of course, being the sarcastic twit that I am, I asked if God should always pick up the tab, or if his date is always responsible for 10%. (Editor's note: check out this humorous look at tithing...at least I hope it was meant to be funny.)

If you can't verbalize what it means to love God without turning Billy Graham on me or resorting to some cheesy verbage from a Vacation Bible School tract, then don't bother. Christianese is like nails on a chalkboard to someone, like me, who is a recovering evangelical, pentacostal. I can hardly stand it.

Talk to me in simple, everyday terms. Make yourself plain. Get your head out of the clouds (or whatever cavity it's stuck within) and be real. You can't go on dates with an unseen deity and its quite difficult to hold a conversation with someone who doesn't talk back...well, except in your head, and those voices probably aren't the Almighty.

So what does it mean to love God? And hold the Christianese, please.

The Bad Taste of Christianese

Have you ever eaten Chinese food only to have the aftertaste of MSG-saturated, mystery meat linger on your taste buds for hours? I’ll admit, I’m no fan of Asian cuisine, period. It may have more to do with my mom force feeding us Chop Suey out of a can and my suspicion about the ingredients than is truly warranted, but I usually hit a fast food drive-thru when the rest of my family wants Chinese food.

My avoidance of Chinese restaurants was recently bolstered by a bad experience at one. Similar negative experiences at church now have me wondering if I’ll begin avoiding them like the plague, too. Allow me to explain.

(Note: The churches in this story shall remain unnamed.)

I attended a Christmas play performed by the children at my parent’s church just over a week ago. It was your standard fare of “us versus the world,” evangelical mentality, focused more on what’s wrong with the world, and in this case politically-correct municipal government, than it was with the miraculous story of the Savior’s birth.

I was impressed that the pastor did not get up to preach before or after the play. That was pleasing and quite atypical for an Assemblies of God church. The pastor’s wife, however, felt the need to begin preaching after the show because no good AG service can end without a proper altar call. She went on and on about blood sacrifice, covenant relationship, Jesus’ atonement for our sins ad nauseum. I was disappointed. Why ruin a perfectly good performance by the kids at church—my niece as Angel #2 in the Nativity was a Tony-worthy performance—with Christianese? Did the pastor’s wife really think that people would accept the offer of Christ after a kid’s play??? It barely even touched on the Good News of Jesus!

A few days later, I attended a Christmas Eve Service with my parents at their old church. It wasn’t any better. Instead of a reverent Communion Service, we were surprised to find ourselves taking in a musical performed mostly by puppets. That’s right, I said puppets! It was like Jim Henson meets Jimmy Swaggart, only the latter would NEVER have approved of the music.

We heard rip-offs of everything from Jay-Z to Van Halen. When some long-haired puppets on instruments began performing a song called “Santa Claus” to the tune of Van Halen’s “Panama,” I almost got my girls and left the church. I laughed. I cried. It was the worst Christmas Eve Service ever!

At one point, I turned to my wife and my mother and bemoaned how I missed the Catholic Church. And right on cue, the pastor of the church—I’m not sure of their Protestant affiliation—got up and gave an altar call. Do I even need to question the relevance? Not even an on-the-fence heathen would have fallen heavenward from laughing so hard at the sight of a Sammy Hagar look-alike puppet singing “Santa Claus.”

Thanks to recent experiences at church, I now have the bad taste of Christianese in my mouth. It has lingered there now for days. I’ve tried everything from mouthwash to meditation, but cannot remove the foul flavor from my buds.

Truth be told, I’ll eat at 10 Chinese restaurants before I’ll visit either one of those churches again. I hate Christianese that much!