The Distillery Church

Escaping Suburbanism

In 1962 it was considered to be a large 3 bedroom house located somewhere in the boonies of Houston, Texas. I wasn’t born yet, but my Mom and Dad were already planning for my arrival in 66 by finding a nice home to raise a family in.

That was the motivation of course. Isn’t that everyone’s motivation for finding a large home? What they didn’t realize is that the neighborhood was growing at a rather deceptive rate, well all of Houston was really, and by the time I was around the age of 10 that part of Houston was no longer considered the boonies.

It became what is now known as Spring Branch – one of the older suburban neighborhoods in the Greater Houston area, just outside the 610 Loop. So that would make me of course a child of the suburbs.

Suburbs were known for having the best schools, being somewhat safe as far as crime was concerned and neighborly. I can understand why my parents would want to raise me in such a place, and as an adult I did the same for my kids.

They too went to the best schools around. They too grew up each having their own room and a back yard and other good things. We always made sure that they had the best of everything. I think that being raised this way certainly had a bearing on why I chose to raise my children the same.

Now though, I wish I would have chosen the unfamiliar over the familiar. I wish I could have been brave enough to choose something different for my kids, for me and Tammy.

It all started about 3 years ago when we planted this church. I was becoming more and more discontent with the suburbs and wanted more and more to move into the city. The only problem is that at that time I still had two children in the “the best school in the area” and the city of Albany is not known for its “good” schools.

So I suffered, living in the burbs another two years or so. It was not until I was free from that environment that I truly realized the impact that it had on me. It is with a little reservation that I speak to you about the burbs, knowing that many of you live there and find your home there.

So I will say up front that this is not a criticism of you or your lifestyle, but more of a realization I have been having now for several years. After taking some space and time to gather my thoughts on this issue, I realize that the true insidious nature of living in the suburbs is not found in the physical place that you live, but in what I call Suburbanisn – a way of living based on conditioning, expectation and modeling by others.

I now see that we could have done things differently and could have benefited greatly from doing things differently, but it is what it is. Of course you also have to understand that I am writing this piece from the perspective of following Jesus.

I understand that living in the burbs is actually part and parcel of the American dream as well and that the things I will be saying here are in direct conflict of that dream. So please bear with me as I recklessly make my point.

“Believing vs. following” or “two kinds of Christians”

It has become ever more clear to me since becoming a Christian that “believing” in Jesus is merely the tip of the iceberg. Believing is not “following” nor is it even close. Following Jesus is much harder.

Believing in Jesus is easy. It requires nothing of yourself to do this and a peaceful suburbanite can quite easily believe in Christ and go to church and get on with life unhampered by the actual ways of Jesus.

A follower of Jesus cannot. They suddenly find that “church” doesn’t look anything like what Jesus would have wanted for a church. They soon realize that their calm comfortable existence is to be called into question by the Lord of the poor. They cannot with clear conscience follow Jesus and continue to exclusively pamper themselves at the expense of others.

Followers of Jesus, can’t justify having things in general. Lots and lots of things. I mean of course we have stuff, because many of us have jobs and we have to live and survive like everyone else. But can I really choose to have a collection of expensive cars while others go without where I am in the position to help?

In my experience, that seems rather excessive. Do I really need a five bedroom house with three bathrooms for me and my wife? Maybe I am using it to help people in need and in that instance of course that’s a good thing.

Do I really need to be paying a 400k mortgage when there are plenty of low cost rentals in the area that fit me just fine? I expect that these statements will meet you with much disagreement, but again I am really just telling you where I have been lately, not where you should be.

For me, following Jesus meant giving up on material possessions. Not selling everything I have and giving it to the poor mind you, but giving up on the hold that the material has on my life. Giving up on the special place that I had reserved for “stuff”.

Following Jesus means inviting people into your life en mass. It means dropping the privacy positions we have adopted from our parents and that we have been conditioned to believe. That means we take huge risks. We put ourselves out there. We open our doors.

Since we have let go of the hold that stuff has on our lives we are not as concerned when the stuff walks away with our new acquaintances. Following Jesus means placing the value on people not stuff, people not privacy, people not US.

Following Jesus is all about sacrifice, and serving and death. If we follow Jesus to our death, we don’t care about suburban things anymore. No I am not talking about physically dying here, although that could happen while following Jesus. I am talking about dying to self.

Ars Moriendi

We’ve probably all heard the phrase “Dying to Self” before and understand what it means, but I want to take a step in a different direction when talking about this. By “self” I don’t mean sin, or our old wicked ways, or the flesh or anything like that.

By self I mean who we have become through years of conditioning. By self I mean the things that our parents and our schools and the TV have sown into us for years that are not consistent with following Jesus- really following him.

By dying to self, I have to die to racism. By dying to myself I have to die to selfishness. Dying to self means that I must lay down my desire to always win the argument. Dying to self means that I die to not talking to strangers, not allowing people that I don’t know into my home, and not getting dirty. By dying to self I die to my desire to be in a smoke free environment. By dying to self I give up my desire to only befriend pretty people that make as much money as I do..

Dying to self would be easier if at the end of it we could actually die, but the problem is that we are still alive and we still have ourselves to deal with over and over and again.

My tattoo is a constant reminder of what this means. It says “ars moriendi” which in Latin means “art of dying.” So for me following Jesus is all about the “ars moriendi.”.



So what’s wrong with Suburbanism?

Again, the problem is not where you live but how you choose to live. It has only been through my experience of both living in the suburbs and living in the city that I have been able to truly slow things down a bit and notice a few oddities about suburban living that are not good for a follower of Jesus to subscribe to.

This is mine, that is yours

This one is pretty cut and dry. I mean when I lived in Loudonville, I possessed a few things that were clearly mine. For instance, my driveway, my front yard, my car, my grass, my tree, my fence, my side of the fence, my house, my curb, my ditch, mine, mine, mine.

No one in the suburbs had a problem with this, nor did anyone try and argue with me about what was mine. Why? Because they had theirs – their cars, their fences, their yards and so on.

As children we are all taught the value of sharing, but then we grow up and it becomes about what is ours. We justify this by saying bold statements like “I earned the money to pay for that, I have a right to fully possess it.”

Which is true, but a little sad too. The suburbs teach us that we have a right to our stuff, and no one else has a right to it. Compare this with the city where my back yard is actually my neighbor’s back yard too. I park on the street and share parking with everyone else in the neighborhood. My front yard is actually the city sidewalk where anyone can just walk through – anyone.

Bushes and Big Dogs

Bushes, fences, trellises, tree lines, blinds, guard dogs, and gates are all designed to keep people out of our yard, out of our stuff, and out of our lives. Especially those folks that are uninvited. The Suburbs tell people that do not belong to “Stay Out.”

We have become very private people which take the very word private to extremes. We seem to take pride in just how private we can be. Unlisted phone numbers, gate entry systems, windowless garage doors that allow us to pull into our homes in privacy, camera systems set up on the perimeter of our yard.

Sure these are extreme examples, but you see what I mean. Suddenly the value of privacy is more valuable than following Jesus into the unexpected. Suddenly privacy takes precedence over chance encounters, and relationships in general.

We use it as an excuse to isolate ourselves in our big houses and only spend time with the people we choose. This leaves God out of the picture. How will we ever meet that new person if they have to get through the German Shepherd in our yard first?

Dying to self means giving up on the clique, throwing open the curtains and being available to all. That is not to say that there is no room for privacy, but we are a lot less private now.

The Smiths and the Joneses

Subarbanism creates a competitive atmosphere for material accumulation. Now maybe this does not apply to you, but when the neighbors got that new snow blower last season and proceeded to bring it out and show it off, I felt envious. I wanted to replace my single stage snow blower and go for the big one.

Sure it costs more money but look at how well it works I justified. The price tag of 1200 dollars was a bit of a deterrent, but I needed to get this thing. I needed it. Funny thing is before I saw my neighbor with one my little single stage was the talk of the hood. It was more than adequate for the amount of snow we were getting.

But something happens to us. It’s like some kind of disease. We need things that we never had before – things that we never needed before. And why not, I mean it is the American dream isn’t it? We must have what we must have.

Dying to self means dying to Americanism, consumerism, suburbanism and all of the other “isms” out there. As I recall from my time in the burbs, I never really remember thinking about this stuff much. For awhile there it was like living in the Matrix.

Now I feel as if I have been set free from the Matrix. Someone has pulled the plug and I cannot go back there. I know that it is an easier more convenient existence. I know that the air conditioning is cooler and the heat always comes on. I remember what it was like to own my curb.

Nope. It’s city life for me now. It’s sharing, and being concerned for my neighbors. It’s not being worried about my security of stuff and not being worried about who knows that Tammy and me fight occasionally. It is about not having to own everything. It is the opposite of the American dream. It is my dream.

Let’s get our lives off this track

In the song “American Empire” by The Cobalt Season the lyrics say it all. Check them out:

Well you take me out and you drag me around
And I’d do anything ’cause all I’ve found in you
In you
You broke my heart with my soul laid bare
But you didn’t know, didn’t care, now did ya?
Even care?

Still I followed you
’cause you promised me
More than I ever really wanted

Well damn this American Empire
We all overpaid to be sure I know it
But even still
All these needs and wants and toys and taunts
They follow me everywhere
Everywhere

But still I followed you
’cause you promised me
More than I ever really wanted and now…

I wanna get my money back
I wanna get my life off-track
I wanna find my one true friend
If I could just begin again
I want to find my way back home
I want to find I’m not alone
And I’m not alone
Not alone…

Well the money’s in the plate and your life’s in my hands
And you wonder if I’d even understand your situation
In this great nation
Where the sick heal the sick and us blind lead the blind
Maybe together we can find what we’re looking for
What was it we were looking for?

So don’t follow me
’cause I’d promise you
Nothing more than what you need and…

You’d wanna get your money back
You’d wanna get your life off-track
You’d wanna find your one true friend
If you could just begin again
You’d wanna find your way back home
You’d wanna find you’re not alone
Friend, you’re not alone
Not alone…

Here’s hopin’ I find my way back to you
Here’s hopin’ that one day I’ll follow through
Here’s hopin’ they read me between the lines
Until then I’m fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine

So we don’t get our money back
Let’s get our lives off this track
Maybe you’re my one true friend
Here we go, let’s begin again
Maybe we’ll find our way back home
Now that we know we’re not alone
Not alone…

From But I Tell You (2005) and LIVE: Deconstructing the American Dream (2006)
So, with all of that said let’s get our lives OFF this track and begin again. God Bless.