Dispatches from Ann Arbor: October 2011

Daniel and I were despairing of finding a local church after our first two Sundays here. The first church we attended was a shocking departure from the one we had left in San Diego. Instead of an (uneasy but glorious) mix of college students and homeless people, we found a tiny cluster of white, silent figures frozen before the discordant warbling of the worship leader. Instead of the cerebral and loving sermons we had begun to take for granted, we found a well-meaning but clueless pastor convinced that the Ann Arbor Arts Festival was a bastion of evil that needed to be purged from the city. I jotted this in my sermon notes: “Facebook updates I wish I could post: ‘Everything about church-hopping disgusts me. But can I really attend a church where the pastor thinks Te Deum Laudamus is an author?’” (Straight from the pastor’s mouth: “I was reading in the hymnbook and this quote by someone named Te Deum Laudamus really struck me.” )

On the way home, we made a short list of church deal-breakers. We knew we weren’t going to find a place that espoused our exact beliefs (nor do we have every theological issue sussed out), but we did know that there were some things we didn’t want to budge on very much. The list:

iconoclasm [The pastor’s denigration of the arts festival, as well as the starkness of the sanctuary, indicated a distinct fear of images that we consider at odds with the whole of Christian history.]
bull-headed creationism (I’d settle for a well-round skepticism, though full-fledged acknowledgement of evolution is preferable) [You don’t have to go far to find an evangelical preaching brimstone upon the heads of those who acknowledge evolutionary theory as broadly acceptable (and we didn’t). But I am firmly convicted that evolutionary theory, a rudimentary form of which dates back to Augustine, provides the most robust theological account of God’s creative power, as well as a fruitful beginning point for understanding the problem of evil and the ultimate redemption of creation.]
fear of mainstream culture [The pastor repeated multiple times that watching cable television is not something a good Christian does. Please.]
revival [I am not opposed to the idea of revival as such. I cannot, however, believe that Ann Arbor today is more depraved than it ever was—that just because it houses a university, it is somehow a moral cesspool, and if we could just throw up some tents and find a latter-day Jonathan Edwards, God would be more pleased with us. Revival, in its common usage, often implies returning to the good old days, and I don’t believe in good old days.]
overt pro-capitalism [Consumer church culture cripples American Christianity, and pro-capitalist as well as strongly politicized comments from the pulpit are unconscionable in light of this.]
strong nationalism [American Christians who consider themselves just as American as they are Christian don’t understand what Jesus was talking about.]

The second church we attended was quite similar to the first. (In fact, the pastor straight-up told us, “We’re probably not what you’re looking for . . . but we’d love to have you!”) By the morning of the third Sunday, we were seriously doubting our entire enterprise. Daniel suggested we check out the BioLogos website (an organization co-founded by some PLNU profs) and search “Ann Arbor,” on the off chance that something would come up. And, funnily enough, a pastor from Ann Arbor had written a series of posts that was featured on the site. We liked what he had to say, and so we hurriedly got dressed so we could make it to the 11 am service.

Sure enough, the sermon didn’t go near one of our deal-breakers. We walked out of the service comfortable with the picture of Jesus the pastor had presented for the first time since we had moved. It had been prayerful, welcoming, and alive. As we headed toward the door, the pastor struck up a conversation with us and ended up inviting us to dinner that weekend.

So we’ve found a church that is almost literally everything we asked for. It’s not a carbon copy of our beloved San Diego community, but nothing ever could be. We’ll probably find some points of disagreement along the way, but the important ones are taken care of. The church even serves communion every Sunday, something we never thought we’d see in a non-liturgical setting again. And how can you not adore an evangelical church whose statements of faith are the Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds?

Friday night, Daniel and I got dressed up and ready to go see John Malkovich perform in “The Infernal Comedy” downtown, and then we realized we had tickets for Saturday night, so we went to Walmart and bought winter shoes.

Saturday night, Daniel and I got dressed up and ready to go for realsies, and we had an excellent time. Malkovich was completely engrossing as an Austrian serial killer on a book tour to promote the “real story” behind his crimes, and the play’s gimmick, placing a 40-piece orchestra and two opera singers behind him, actually worked. And it was fun to go out and people-watch Ann Arbor’s finest senior citizens.

Sunday afternoon, we went canoeing with a group from the law school.