I could have been one of them. If it weren’t for a dinner party.

I doubt I’d feel happy leaving church for good. I spent stretches of time not going, but never with the intention of staying out. I just hadn’t found the right church. By the time I met my husband I’d found one; but we moved too far away, so we had to find a place we’d both feel comfortable. We visited just about every place that friends attended and recommended. And we left most of them angry.

Why? Well, for one, we’d each grown uncomfortable with modernist liturgy: the 45-minute rock concert, followed by a 45-minute sermon – often containing 15 minutes of content padded out with alliterative bullet points and anecdotes. (I began to feel sorry for pastors: they had to produce a new 45-minute act every week!) Church had begun to feel like “the Sunday Show,” as a friend described; the show that Northpoint Church poked fun of in their video, “Sunday’s Coming.” (They can poke fun, because it’s the same format they follow).

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.

However, many people we loved and respected went to these churches. Perhaps nobody was wrong; everybody was just different. So Larry and I kept looking and visiting. And leaving angry.

At the end of our ecclesiastical rope, I discovered that an Episcopal priest, whom I fondly remembered during a church-hopping stint 15 years prior, was now the senior rector of a teensy church just a couple miles from us. So we went.

We didn’t leave angry; that was the high water mark.

We went back the following two weeks and I finally reintroduced myself to her. Reverend Anne made sure we filled out a card, and two weeks later she invited us to a newcomer’s dinner.

A dozen people sat around a table. Anne got excited when she found out that Larry and I read CS Lewis, NT Wright and Donald Miller. She’d been trying to launch small groups for some time and asked us to join in a training group. We said yes. What else were we going to say?

There were eight of us in training, including a woman who’d come to Christianity after studying eastern religions; a guy who’d left a large parish because it was more concerned with politics than religion; a couple whose wife had attended church for years but the husband only recently decided he needed to ‘get right with God,’ as he put it. He was a scientist. He questioned everything. He needed data. He refused to pray out loud. Toward the end of the program he finally agreed to pray, but only after his wife gave him tips on what to say.

Three small groups launched the following spring, reading a Lenten devotional with essays by everyone from CS Lewis to Khalil Gibran (hey, what the …? ) When Lent was over, the Scientist and his wife joined our group. He didn’t want to read essays; he wanted to read the Bible. “I don’t know what’s in there.”

We bought NT Wright’s study guide, Luke For Everyone, and began to read. And we began to change. The Bible came alive, not just to the Scientist for whom the story was new, but to Larry and me who thought we knew everything. Wright filled in the historical and cultural context; he debunked the religious folklore that had crept into my thinking. The life, death and resurrection of Jesus became real and vivid to us. It was like we were there. We got excited.

We moved on to Acts. Other people joined the group: longstanding church goers, outcasts who’d been away from church for years: a lesbian who got expelled from Bible school, a Buddhist who visited our church one Sunday and couldn’t stop crying; a great-grandmother who’s gone to our church for 50 years, a single mom and her teenage daughter. We’re all reading the Bible and discovering new things.

We are also growing together. We’ve begun to share our stories. When my beloved kitty died last month, they prayed and cried with me. I’ve grown closer to Larry too. Every week I see how much people look up to him; I observe what a scholar he is. I respect and love him more every week. Yes, we belong to a church. But the core of my church experience is my small group.

It’s not always amazing. Sometimes the Sunday service is boring. They can pick some musty old hymns that make me long for Chris Tomlin. But we’ve launched a contemporary, contemplative service. That’s where the Scientist says he really gets emotional. The Scientist is having emotional experiences with God.

The small group has had its awkward moments, too. Once a woman told us that Jesus had visited Britain; it was proven, she’d seen it on the History Channel. I asked her if she’d been watching Para-history Channel. Another time a man visited. He said he didn’t care if the resurrection happened. “Everyone gets into heaven, even Hitler.” He hasn’t returned, but I heard he read Velvet Elvis and is devouring Rob Bell’s Nooma videos. It just reminds me that God is working on each of us in his timing, in a way that each of us can stomach.

I didn’t leave church. I came back, and I’m learning the lesson that my more mature friends – the ones who love churches I walk out of angry – have already learned: just pick a church and go. Every place will have assets and liabilities. You’ll meet true friends and people you can’t stand. You may find yourself the radical leftist in a group of right-wingers, or the conservative prig in a group of radical leftists. Just go. Plug in. When your pastor invites you to a newcomers’ dinner, say yes. If you’re asked to lead, say yes. If you don’t think you’re prepared, ask God to prepare you.

Not long ago, the former Buddhist confessed she wasn’t feeling so sure about her faith. She missed that glow she first felt. The Scientist nodded, “Don’t worry. It comes and goes. Just keep showing up.”

Here is a video from Bel Air Presbyterian’s Drama Department about small groups, done in the vein of “The Office.”

Susan Isaacs is a writer, actor, and comedienne with TV and film credits including Planes Trains & Automobiles, Scrooged, Seinfeld, The Drew Carey Show, My Name Is Earl and more. She is an alumnus of The Groundlings Sunday Company and the author of Angry Conversations With God: A Snarky But Authentic Spiritual Memoir.

Click here to listen to Susan's most recent appearance on SBE.

While her marriage to British writer Roald Dahl, the author of children's classics such as "James and Giant Peach," had long been troubled, Neal was shattered when she learned he was having an affair with one of her friends. They divorced in1983.

In her 1988 memoir, "As I Am," Neal admitted: "Frequently my life has been likened to a Greek tragedy, and the actress in me cannot deny that comparison."

That quotation captured the tone of the tributes published after Neal passed away on Aug. 8 at the age of 84. Broadway theaters dimmed their lights in honor of the Tony Award winner and critics sang the praises of one of Hollywood's ultimate survivors, an actress who literally learned to walk and talk again before returning to the screen to earn another Oscar nomination.

But Neal's story contained angels as well as demons. This is obvious in the overlooked passages in "As I Am" that described her conversion to Catholicism and her visits to the cloister of Regina Laudis (Queen of Praise) Abbey in Bethlehem, Conn., where the sisters helped her confess her sorrows and rage.

Finally, the abbess suggested that Neal move into the abbey for a month.

"Lady Abbess," said Neal, "I don't want to join up, you understand?"

The abbess sighed and said, "Believe me, we don't want you to, either. I don't think we could take it for more than a month."

As she arrived, Neal stubbed out the "last cigarette I would ever smoke."

A priest gave her a blessing and, she recalled, "I felt his cross blaze into my forehead. … I traded my street clothes for the black dress of the postulant and scrubbed off my makeup. I removed the rings from my fingers and covered my hair with a black scarf. I looked at the bare wooden walls of my cell. … I did not live the exact life of a postulant, but I did my best."

Neal went to church on time, followed the abbey's prayer regime, baked bread, remained silent during meals and, with the help of a spiritual director, began writing the journal that evolved into "As I Am."

Behind closed doors, she unleashed her fury. At one point she screamed so many curses at her counselor that the sister finally cursed right back, urging Neal to be honest about her own faults and mistakes.

The actress finally voiced her secret pain. Monsignor Jim Lisante of Diocese of Rockville Centre (New York) later discussed with Neal the tragedies of her life and asked if there was any one event that she would change.

"She said, 'Forty years ago I became involved with the actor Gary Cooper, and by him I became pregnant. As he was a married man and I was young in Hollywood and not wanting to ruin my career, we chose to have the baby aborted,' " wrote Lisante, at the Creative Minority Report website. "She said, 'Father, alone in the night for over 40 years, I have cried for my child. And if there is one thing I wish I had the courage to do over in my life, I wish I had the courage to have that baby.' "

Several of the obituaries for Neal — including the New York Times feature — mentioned this episode in the context of her pain and regret. The Washington Post noted that late in life "she suffered periods of depression and suicidal thoughts before finding peace as a Catholic convert."

In the end, Neal decided that, "God was using my life far beyond any merit of my own making" allowing her to reach out to those who were suffering. "I learned that my damaged brain cannot reclaim what is dead. It has to create totally new pathways that allowed me to make choices I would never have made had I not suffered that stroke — choices that an infallible voice assures me will be blessed."

One final lesson from the abbess, wrote Neal, stood out: "There is a way to love that remains after everything else is taken from us."

Professor Terry Mattingly writes the nationally syndicated On Religion column for the Scripps Howard News Service in Washington, D.C., which is sent to about 350 newspapers in North America. He's also a regular contributor at GetReligion.org and the author of the book Pop Goes Religion: Faith in Popular Culture.

(If you're on the front page of the site, click the title of this post to see the cartoon.)

We never cease to amaze me. When I read that some Christians are praying for the famously outspoken atheist Christopher Hitchens to die, well… we never cease to amaze me. He is dying of esophageal cancer. I created this indisputable cartoon as a reminder to all of us… all of us… that all paths lead to the grave. I know what happens after that is where the guns start firing. And, for the record, I don’t believe in the god that Christopher Hitchens doesn’t believe in either. I do wish him well.

nakedpastor is David Hayward. David is an artist trapped in a pastor's body. Go to nakedpastor.com for more cartoons, blog posts, art and insight from a pastor who's stark naked honest about church life.

Researchers tell us that pornography and sex-related sites make up nearly 60 percent of daily web traffic. There are 370 million web sites that exist for pornography and the number is still growing. For millions of men it goes on in every day, even in their own homes after their family goes to sleep. One survey found that twenty million Americans spend a good deal of their waking hours looking at pornography. And they don't stop because they are, in the truest sense of the word, addicted. These addicts need help. Author Michael Leahy (Porn Nation: America’s Number One Addiction) calls it America’s our number one addiction! How does porn affect us? How is it changing the way people see themselves and others? How is it impacting our culture? And what can be really done about it, both legally and personally?

In reviewer Kate Dailey’s Newsweek article about Gail Dines (photo at left) new book she says “profits, not pleasure, drive the porn industry.” Dailey says Dines argument is that porn really has become a celebrated commonplace part of our American experience. Gail Dines is a professor of sociology and women’s studies at Wheelock College in Boston and this is not her first book on this subject.

Dines writes not as a Christian but as a feminist who believes porn is growing more graphic and mainstream than ever. Our culture, she says, is “hypersexualized.” In the process, concludes Kate Dailey, "[Porn] is now mainstream, undermining the way’s men and women approach sex.” In the foreword to Pornland Dines says: “Porn is not something that stands outside of us: it is deeply embedded in our structures, identities, and relationships. This did not happen overnight, and there is a story to tell about how we got to the point that mainstream Internet porn has become so hateful and cruel” (xxix). Here are some of the conclusions of Dines.

1. The majority of porn is based on women’s humiliation or their degradation. “[The] women of the porn world seem to enjoy having sex with men who express nothing but contempt and hatred for them, and often the greater the insults, the better orgasms for all involved (xxiv).

2. Porn does contribute to pedophilia. This is debated by the so-called experts but it seems self-evident to me. Men who see too much porn can become desensitized. Dines argues that research does not point to two identifiable groups, men who are pedophiles and men who are not. Rather, she says, there is a “continuum: some men are situated at either end, but others are scattered at various points” (160). Even porn that is not explicitly promoting techniques used by pedophiles contributes to the problem by pushing men further along this continuum. Again, this seems pretty obvious to me but I know there is a huge debate among researchers here.

3. Research of male web sites shows just how far this addiction goes when the comments left on web sites are taken into consideration. Dines’ point, says Dailey, is “the modern porn culture both desensitizes users to women while also making porn seem like an acceptable option for girls.

Porn has existed throughout history but there seems to be a new dimension to it with the Internet. Even if this is a chicken-and-egg debate reviewer Dailey asks if porn is “a symptom or a disease?” I suppose I would so it is both. If women were better treated by men then the problem might be lessened. But this is where researchers like Dines do not deal with the spiritual consequences of porn at all. In the book Porn Nation author Michael Leahy concludes:

But even as I talk with today’s youth and college students, the real target of this growing industry with an insatiable appetite for profits, this unprecedented level of saturation comes as no surprise to them. The most common response I get when asking them if they’re aware of their juxtaposition to all of the titillating content around them: “Sure, we know, we’re soaking in it!” When asked how it’s affecting them, most can only shrug their shoulders. Like the proverbial frog enjoying a swim in the boiling pot sitting on a stove, all we really know is it’s a good bit warmer in here than it used to be.

Those who struggle with our “newest and most challenging mental health problem–pornography addiction” (Patrick Carnes, Ph.D., author of Don't Call It Love and In the Shadows of the Net ) need help. Christian counsel is seriously needed. I thank God the help needed is not far away if men want to seriously find it. I encourage pastors to be extremely careful and to avoid two extremes: too much interest in this problem and/or too little. Be careful what you talk about in sermons with children present but provide help and do not be surprised when men come out of hiding and seek that help.

Join John Armstrong on Steve Brown Etc. as we discuss his new book, Your Church Is Too Small: Why Unity in Christ's Mission Is Vital to the Future of the Church.

John H. Armstrong is founder and president of ACT 3, a ministry for the advancement of the Christian Tradition in the third millennium. He is a former pastor and church-planter, of more than twenty years, the author/editor of eight books, and the author of hundreds of magazine, journal, and Web based articles. John has served as the editor-in-chief of ACT 3 Review: A Journal for Faith, Church and Culture since its origin in 1992. But most importantly, he is our go-to professional religionist.

(If you're on the front page of the site, click the title of this post to see the video player.)

Constitutional attorney John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute and author of The Change Manifesto. He can be contacted at johnw@rutherford.org. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.

John W. Whitehead's weekly commentaries are available for publication to newspapers and web publications at no charge. Please contact marketing@rutherford.org to obtain reprint permission.

This is a eulogy to a pet. If you are not inclined to maudlin pet tributes nor have room in your theology for pets in heaven, then save me the embarrassment and yourself the frustration, and give this piece a skip.

My dearest cat died on Sunday. Honey was 13 years old. I'd held out hope she would be one of those cats that made it to 18. But even if she had, it wouldn't have been enough time. Not for loved ones. We always want one more day.

It's hard for me to call Honey a pet. Having been single most of my life and having no children I poured my love and mothering onto her, and she became my child. She became my friend. And she became of herself. Not just an animal or a pet but a living being that has been transformed by love. Honey taught me a lot about love, and now I'm learning unspeakable grief. (Again, if you aren't a pet lover, feel free to go read the Old White Guy’s bullet points about Calvinism.)

I had noticed changes in Honey this past year: she'd lost weight as older cats do; she moved more slowly and started to complain if I picked her up a certain way. It was the arthritis the vet had spotted, I told myself. She'd taken to spending evenings out in the cool of the garden –we moved into a house with a fenced yard and she didn't have to worry about predators: that's what I told myself. But my childhood cat had done the same thing the summer before he died. The vet said she was fine, so that's what I told myself. We tell ourselves a lot of things.

Back in 1998 I was trying to heal from some behaviors, like smoking, drinking and dating awful men. I decided I needed a companion that wouldn't make me feel crappy about myself; a pet I could be responsible for, stay sober for, someone to love. I wanted a dog. But my landlord insisted: no dogs, only a cat.

So I visited local animal shelters and pet stores for a cat. All I found were cat-type cats: blasé, remote, saw me only as a food source. On my way out of one such shelter, I spied a flyer for a kitten rescue organization. I went home and logged onto their website. A flashbot kept blinking at me: "Find a Home For Honey. Find a Home For Honey." I called the number.

A woman named Lisa answered. She'd found an abandoned cat in her neighborhood, but already had three of her own and couldn't take a fourth. I went to meet them.

Lisa had been walking to her front porch when a cat cried out from her bushes. It was starving, matted with dirt and sores. When she washed, fed, and got her revived, Lisa discovered a petite, pastel-colored tabby with soft hair and bright green eyes. She realized it had belonged to some badass neighbors who'd done everyone a favor by moving away. Well, better for the cat. Lisa said she named the cat "Honey" for her sweet disposition. I was waiting to see that disposition, so Lisa let her out of her crate. The cat was timid. But when I reached out my hand to pet her, she affectionately butted her head against my palm. She sat, kneading her tiny paws on the bedspread, waiting for more.

Then she trilled. "Burrup?"
Yes, I replied.
I took her home that day.

The first few days Honey wouldn't come out from under the bed. Great, I thought: a cat you never see unless you get up in the middle of the night and find it eating or pooping. But a couple nights later as I was watching TV, she appeared out of the dark at my feet. "Burrup?" She trilled, jumped up in my lap and butted her head against my chest.

I spent many a night crying over the mess I had made in my life. Honey parked herself on my chest, purred, and affectionately butted her head against me. I lay there, running my fingers through her soft pastel gray and gold fur until the sorrow went away. God's love can feel so theoretical. But a warm fuzzy creature that loves you no matter what, that's love you can touch.

I healed with Honey's help. I moved cross-country twice, watched my career fall apart, survived a gut wrenching breakup, and a spiritual dark night of the soul. Friends came and went. Family members died. Careers dissolved. Men left. Even God hid himself for a while. But Honey never wandered off. She wanted to stay. No one had done that before.

Honey healed too. She changed from a fearful castoff to a gentle, loving, soul. She became gregarious: if I had people over, she would find a lap to sit on. She was patient with children who tried to hold her in their spindly fingers. She learned to play. She even learned to talk: If she wanted something her voice turned up at the end like a question. She complained shrilly when she was upset. She knew how to con me into a second breakfast by trilling and kneading her petite gray feet.

And she trilled. "Burrup?" She trilled in the morning when I woke up. She trilled when she wanted up on my desk. She sat with me as I wrote. She liked to park herself between my arms as I typed on my computer. If I moved her to the side, she made sure her paw touched my arm. If I were journaling or reading, she'd try to sit on my notebook or book. Wherever my attention was given, she wanted to be there.

I didn't always get how much being her mom had changed her. I occasionally traveled out of town, sometimes for a couple months at a time. I left her in the care of roommates or family members. I didn't think Honey would mind. "She's independent. She's just a cat." But a roommate scolded me. "Honey's not the same when you're gone. She waits for you. She misses you." For three years I dated a man who hated cats. When he broke up with me, he cited Honey as a factor. In a panic I offered to give Honey away. Thank God I didn't follow through. It turns my stomach to think of it now. I vowed to never date a man who didn't love Honey.

When I met my husband, he was a 50-year-old bachelor who'd never kept a pet. He said it was too hard on him when they died. My red lights went off. "Pet hater." But the first time he sat on my couch, Honey jumped up in his lap. That was it. Larry came to love her as much as I did. Honey came to belong to Larry too; and we to her.

Last fall I left on a 2-½ month book tour. The night before I left I came out to the garden to call her out of the bushes. She always came when I called. I picked her up and held her close. "Please don't go yet. Not while I'm gone. Please be here when I get back."

And she was. But she was frailer. She started vomiting hairballs here and there. It was shedding season, I told myself. I groomed her more. She loved it. She'd stretch her teeny body across the lawn, extending her claws into the grass, rolling around to make sure I got both sides, and purring. She had the loudest purr.

Two weeks ago I left to work on a movie out of town. I asked Larry to take her into the vet again. The vet said she checked out fine. No masses, no lumps. The blood tests came back normal except a hyper thyroid. I shouldn't have trusted the tests. I should trusted my gut. I was her mom.

At 5am last Sunday morning, Honey bolted us awake with a horrible yelp. We rushed her to 24-hour Emergency vet. A squat tattooed technician gave us a list of tests they would perform for $1,000. "Are you running a scam?" I screamed. "Use your common sense! What does it look like the problem is?"

The east-Indian vet came in. "It doesn't look good." But what did it look like? I yelled. He would have to run a blood test. That took 30 minutes. Why didn't I force him to pump her with antibiotics right then? I was her mother. I knew her; they didn't.

Larry and I went into the lobby. Larry asked me what I wanted to do. I couldn't make that decision.  Larry had to say it. But we knew. We'd known it was coming. It always comes. We went back in. I held onto Honey and stroked her hair. The tests showed she had a massive infection. The vet swam in veiled verbiage, "the prognosis isn't good." He smiled. Why was he smiling? Was he nervous? Was it a cultural thing? I wanted him to change places with her.

Suddenly she went into convulsions. Larry nodded. They put a towel around her to contain her flailing body. I reached my hand out to her. She reached out her paw to touch my hand.

And then it was over.

We didn't own the place we live in. We didn't own a shovel. We had a dog that was a compulsive digger. We couldn't take her with us.

They let us sit alone with her in a private room. I stroked her soft hair. I told her how much I loved her, how much God had shown his love to me through her. I told her how much I would miss her, how much it was going to hurt. But I was wrong. I had no idea how much. I asked her to wait for me. I told her I would be waiting for that day I would see her again.

We drove away with her collar and a lock of her fur; that beautiful, soft fur you could run your hands through and forget your sorrow. Why didn't I get a better look at it? I want to see it now, all those colors. But I can't remember.

We went to the 8am service. There were only a half a dozen people there. No choir. I didn't stand up. I mimed the Creed. When they passed the peace, I sat alone in the pew. My pastor sat down next to me and gave me a hug. I couldn't look up.

But I went forward for communion. As they placed the wafer in my hand, I could hear Jesus words: "Remember Susan. I've gone on through ahead of you on this. Death is not the end."

Was that true? Really true? Just for me? Or for Honey too? I have spent the week vaulting between inconsolable grief and a desperate need to know that I will see my dear Honey in the new heavens and the new earth. Billy Graham thought it a reasonable hope. CS Lewis suggested that in the same way God breathes his eternal spirit into us, we breathe that eternal spirit into those creatures we have loved. In The Great Divorce, Lewis describes a woman in heaven surrounded by children, angels and her pets.

"Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves. And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them."

But was CS Lewis right? What if he was just spinning a fairy tale full of wishful thinking? Well, in Revelation, Jesus rides in on a horse. A lion will lie down with the lamb. Are they just metaphors? I found this online, written by Carol Bechtel, a professor of Old Testament, addressing the possibility of pets in heaven.

"While the Hebrew word nephesh is often translated "soul," it really means "a living being." In Genesis 2:7, when God breathes into Adam's nostrils the breath of life, he becomes a living being. This same word is often used with reference to animals (Prov 12:10). So what distinguishes human beings from animals is not that humans "have a soul," but that humans are created in the image of God (Gen 1:26-27).

The Bible's promise is about the renewal of all creation. "God so loved the world." N.T. Wright puts it this way: "The New Testament picks up from the Old the theme that God intends, in the end, to put the whole creation to rights. If we have grown up believing something else, it's time we rubbed our eyes and read our texts again" (Simply Christian, pp.217-219).

I called my sister. We cried . She read me the verse she used when she buried her 14 year old Calico.

For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God's curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God's children in glorious freedom from death and decay. Rom 8:19-21:

All creation is waiting to be liberated freedom from death and decay. Doesn't that include the creatures we have loved, whom God entrusted to our care? Why not my dear Honey, who showed God's love to me in tangible way? Did I have to find an explicit verse to be convinced? Not even the Trinity is explicit in scripture.

Is this some ridiculous hope uttered by a pathetic idiot who waited to long to get married and have children? I've lain awake at night. I've gotten out of bed and flattened myself on the floor, weeping and begging God. "You can make me a pauper, take years off of my life, if you will just let me see and know her again! If she's not in Heaven, I refuse to go! I won't go!"

Then thought occurred to me: God might be grieved by my begging.  "Why do you doubt my goodness? Do you think you love Honey more than I do? Wasn't it I who rescued her 13 years ago? Wasn't it I who brought her into your life, gave you the responsibility to care for her, love her, and transform her into a loved creature? Wasn't it I who loved you through her? Why do you think I would let her go, any more than I would let you go? Why don't you trust me?"

At least, that's what I believe God would say. Because I believe God is good. 

I'm not sure everything God intended when he put us in charge of the animals. Maybe he knew how lonely we could be this side of Eden. Maybe he knew we'd need them to show us unconditional love. And they would need us, to redeem them. They're waiting for the day they will join us in that freedom from death and decay.

This loving bond between man and animal– why do I fear I came up with it and God is going to steal it away like some miserly killjoy. Didn't God come up with the idea in the first place? Isn't what we experience here just a shadow of the real thing we will enjoy in heaven? Why would God cast away the love we started here, or the creatures we loved here? We might as well believe there's no hope for us.

This may be the ramblings of a middle aged idiot who waited too long to get married and have children. But I loved whom God gave me to love. And yes, may bastardize St. Paul's original context: but I know the One in whom I have believed, and I am utterly convinced that he is able to guard all I have entrusted to him until the day of his return.

Take care of Honey, Father. I miss her more than tears can tell.

Susan Isaacs is a writer, actor, and comedienne with TV and film credits including Planes Trains & Automobiles, Scrooged, Seinfeld, The Drew Carey Show, My Name Is Earl and more. She is an alumnus of The Groundlings Sunday Company and the author of Angry Conversations With God: A Snarky But Authentic Spiritual Memoir.

Click here to listen to Susan's most recent appearance on SBE

Consider, for example, that recent Time magazine cover story that ran with the headline, "The Only Child Myth." (Once again, alas, the full story is behind a digital wall and you can only see an abridged version. Also, the parts of the story that center on religion were among those cut out. I'll watch for the full text in future weeks, but for now you'll have to rely on passages that I have typed up to share with you.)

This topic, and this report, raises lots of questions, including why the Time editors made the Meacham-esque decision to publish a news essay on this controversial and emotional topic that was written by a reporter, Lauren Sandler, who right up front states (good for her, in terms of candor) that she is an only child and that she is the mother of only one child and that's fine with her, thank you very much.

The article feels like an extended argument on behalf of a cause, with few sympathetic voices showing up to argue for the other side. After all, states Sandler, the one-child model has become the "new traditional family," especially during these hard economic times. Take that, Focus on the Family.

I kept wondering if and when a clearly religious angle would show up in this story, fearing that it would be totally haunted. Finally, one did.

If you comb the World Values Survey, you'll find religiosity and fertility go hand in hand, whether in more secular Europe or in more pious America. As much as family size is a deeply personal issue, for many people it is also a spiritual one. And as Samuel Preston writes in his 2008 paper "The Future of American Fertility," high fertility can beget high fertility: children who inherit their parents' religious beliefs inherit at least one of the reasons to have many children themselves. No wonder churches nationwide vied to book Jon and Kate Gosselin (predivorce) for guest spots in their pulpits. Evangelicals — the biggest share of their viewership — saw the Gosselins' brood as proof of pure piety.

It must have felt good to tap in the negative rebound on that Gosselin story. However, this is a serious subject and there are many other religious voices — including Catholics, Jews, Muslims and others — who could speak to this point. However, there really isn't time in this editorial essay to contemplate the lives and beliefs of those on the other side.

Still, it was at this point that I really began to wonder if Time was going to leave the religion element completely out of its blissful coverage of the "One and Done" lifestyle. After all, if intense religious faith leads to fertility, what kind of religious belief or unbelief leads to this new "traditional family"? In other words, what is the religious (or, perhaps, "values") content of this new tradition?

What we read sounds persuasive, but rather — dare I say it? — self-centered. Check this out, from the abridged version:

As parents, we tend to ask ourselves two questions when we talk about having more children. First, will it make our kid happier? And then, will it make us happier? A 2007 survey found that at a rate of 3 to 1, people believe the main purpose of marriage is the "mutual happiness and fulfillment" of adults rather than the "bearing and raising of children." There must be some balance between the joy our kids give us and the sacrifices we make to care for them.

"Most people are saying, I can't divide myself anymore," says social psychologist Susan Newman. Before technology made the office a 24-hour presence, we actually spent less time actively parenting, she explains. "We no longer send a child out to play for three hours and have those three hours to ourselves," she says. "Now you take them to the next practice, the next class. We've been consumed by our children. But we're moving back slowly to parents wanting to have a life too. And people are realizing that's simply easier with one."

Or consider this snippet from a visit with Andrew Oswald of the University of Warwick:

Ironically, it seems that if economic pressures can bring about lower fertility, so can economic prosperity. "I love my daughters to bits. But skiing and sports cars without baby seats can be fun too," he says. "That's why only children are the secular trend of a rich society we've been moving toward for the past 100 years."

Is that it? This is a "secular trend" — period? I find it hard to believe that the Time editors were willing to settle for that.

Is this crucial question really that simple? Faith equals living for others? A lack of faith equals living for oneself? Surely there is more to the faith of the "One and Done" tradition than this? Where are the religious voices on the other side of the childbirth equation?

Professor Terry Mattingly writes the nationally syndicated On Religion column for the Scripps Howard News Service in Washington, D.C., which is sent to about 350 newspapers in North America. He's also a regular contributor at GetReligion.org and the author of the book Pop Goes Religion: Faith in Popular Culture.

The apocryphal book of Sirach adds this rather amazing wisdom:

Let those who are friendly with you be many, but let your advisers be one in a thousand. When you gain friends, gain them through testing, and do not trust them hastily. For there are friends who are such when it suits them, and they will not stand by you in time of trouble. And there are friends who change into enemies, and tell of the quarrel to your disgrace. And there are friends who sit at your table, but they will not stand by you in time of trouble. When you are prosperous, they become your second self, and lord it over your servants; but if you are brought low, they turn against you, and hide themselves from you. Keep away from your enemies, and be on guard with your friends. Faithful friends are a sturdy shelter; whosoever finds one has found a treasure. Faithful friends are beyond price; no amount can balance their worth. Faithful friends are life-saving medicine; and those who fear the Lord will find them. Those who fear the Lord direct their friendship aright, for as they are, so are their neighbors also (Sirach 6:6–17).

If you are not in the habit of reading the Deuterocanonical books of the Old Testament I encourage you to read them now and then. There are, as most readers well know, debates among Christians about their inclusion in the canonical Scriptures but by never reading them many miss the wisdom and counsel of this precious ancient wisdom. The quote from Sirach alone demonstrates my point.

I thought about these various text recently when I discovered a new Website called RentAFriend.com. This site really does exist, as you can see, and it really does work. One employee of the site, named Jennifer Morrison, is a double, serving as a “platonic friend” to people in need. RentAFriend.com will provide “friends” who will show you around town, spend time listening to you and just be a human presence when you feel like you need one.

For those who think this is a cover for an escort service it is immediately apparent that this is not true. Jennifer Morrison earns anywhere from $20 to $30 an hour for her service. She is a mother of a two-year old who began work with her husband’s blessing. She admits that her first response was to think how sad it was that people need to “rent” a person to be there friend for a period of time.

RentAFriend.com receives 100,000 unique views every month and has nearly 2,000 members who pay $24.95 a month, or $69.95, a year for a login and password so they can peruse the photos and profiles of 167,000-plus possible pals. The dangers here seem obvious and several Web-based stories suggest scams.

Over the last few years the word friend has become a verb and often includes nothing more than a connection with someone via Facebook that you will never personally meet. Research indicates that loneliness can lead to depression, suicide and high blood pressure, to name only a few problems.

Does this work? Some say it helps get some people back into circulation and thus helps in the short run. Others are less sure.

This site is modeled after ones already in existence in Japan and other parts of Asia. Ori Brafman, co-author of the book, Click: The Magic of Instant Connections, said the concept “seems really tragic, kind of surreally tragic.” It clearly represents the tendency in our society to the worst kind of social isolation.

Question: If so many people are more and more alone, and lonely, in a busier and more distant world of communications what should the Christian response be? It seems obvious to me that “love your neighbor as yourself” provides all the incentive and perspective that we need to befriend the stranger and invest kingdom life into socially needy souls.

Join John Armstrong on Steve Brown Etc. as we discuss his new book, Your Church Is Too Small: Why Unity in Christ's Mission Is Vital to the Future of the Church.

John H. Armstrong is founder and president of ACT 3, a ministry for the advancement of the Christian Tradition in the third millennium. He is a former pastor and church-planter, of more than twenty years, the author/editor of eight books, and the author of hundreds of magazine, journal, and Web based articles. John has served as the editor-in-chief of ACT 3 Review: A Journal for Faith, Church and Culture since its origin in 1992. But most importantly, he is our go-to professional religionist.

(If you're on the front page of the site, click the title of this post to see the video player.)

Constitutional attorney John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute and author of The Change Manifesto. He can be contacted at johnw@rutherford.org. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.

John W. Whitehead's weekly commentaries are available for publication to newspapers and web publications at no charge. Please contact marketing@rutherford.org to obtain reprint permission.

It's just too easy to divide the world into left and right, moderates and fundamentalists and assume that news consumers have some idea what those words mean. Isn't that right, Bill Keller? This is particularly true when issues of culture and public morality start getting mixed up with issues that are rooted in religion and doctrine.

Let's look at a rather ridiculous case, just to make the point rather obvious.

So, tell me. What did you think when you read the news reports about Sir Elton John providing some of the music for the recent wedding of Rush Limbaugh and his fourth (count 'em, four) wife? Here is the top of a rather typical report, care of a Wall Street Journal blog item by Zev Chafets, author of "Rush Limbaugh: An Army of One."

A lot of people were unpleasantly surprised to learn that Elton John, one of the world's most proudly prominent gay entertainers, played at Rush Limbaugh's Palm Beach wedding to Kathryn Rogers. … Evangelicals voiced dismay that a pious fellow like Rush would give legitimacy to the libertine Sir Elton. Limbaugh-haters jeered at what they considered el Rushbo's hypocracy.

OK, did you see any interesting labels in that paragraph which, admittedly, is a rather tongue-in-cheek salute to the shallowness of public images. Limbaugh? A "pious fellow"? Say what?

Here is another part of this short Chafets piece that many GetReligion readers will appreciate:

This demonstrates that even after more than 20 years on the radio, not everyone understands who Limbaugh actually is.

For starters he is not, and has never pretended to be, a member of the Christian Right. As a young disc jockey he invented a fictitious faith healer, "Friar Shuck" who saved people over the radio for a hundred bucks a pop. Shuck is gone now, but Rush's show still has a rakish, sometimes impious edge. His fans know he was an Oxycontin addict who spent time in rehab, that he unapologetically appreciates "adult beverages" and beautiful women and that his Sunday devotionals take place in the Church of the NFL. …

On some social issues, like abortion, Limbaugh is a conventional conservative. On others he sounds a lot like Barack Obama. In an interview last summer he told me that he regards homosexuality as most likely determined by biology, considers other people's sex lives to be none of his business and supports gay civil unions. I'm pretty sure that Elton John’s sexual orientation never even crossed Limbaugh's mind.

Actually, early in his career Limbaugh was rather openly pro-choice, while he still enjoyed mocking the degree to which some feminists personed that particular barricade against any compromises whatsoever. Perhaps Limbaugh simply knows that legal access to abortion is a crucial fact of life for, well, men of his ilk.

If you were searching for a label to apply to Limbaugh — while talking about moral, cultural and religious issues — what label would you use? If one frames the debate in that manner, is "conservative" the best word?

In fact, if you are interested in compromises on moral and social issues, what is the essential difference between Limbaugh and, oh, Bill Clinton? You might want to remember that Clinton grew up as a Southern Baptist and remains a "moderate" Baptist, while Limbaugh grew up adoring his father, who was conservative on political issues, but a liberal Methodist on matters of faith and doctrine. And Limbaugh's pew today?

I'll leave you with one final thought, as we consider the usefulness of political and religious labels in a story of this kind.

Central to all forms of religious conservatism or traditionalism, at least the ones with which I am familiar, is a robust belief in the sinfulness of humanity. In a Scripps Howard column a year or so ago — entitled "Rush Limbaugh, liberal heretic?" — I asked a basic question: To what degree does El Rushbo's view of the world include an emphasis on the reality of sin?

Does anyone remember that CPAC speech back in 2009? Here is a crucial passage:

Let me tell you who we conservatives are: We love people. When we look out over the United States of America, when we are anywhere, when we see a group of people, such as this or anywhere, we see Americans. We see human beings. We don't see groups. We don't see victims. We don't see people we want to exploit. What we see — what we see is potential. We do not look out across the country and see the average American, the person that makes this country work. We do not see that person with contempt. We don't think that person doesn't have what it takes. We believe that person can be the best he or she wants to be if certain things are just removed from their path like onerous taxes, regulations and too much government.

No doubt about it, that sounds like political conservatism. However, what is Limbaugh's view of the power of sin in the world?

You just remove the clamps placed on people by government and all is well? It's as simple as that, is it? How many people would embrace that Gospel right now along the Gulf Coast? How about people affected by the scandals on Wall Street and elsewhere in our economic temples? How many cultural conservatives want to see government regulations torn away from, oh, a corporation like Planned Parenthood?

Anyway, what is the best label for Limbaugh when it comes to issues of morality, culture and religions? Give it your best JOURNALISTIC shot and remember that this is a family weblog.

Top photo: Elton John and another spiritual seeker.

The Chicago Tribune feature focused principally on Millennials in the job market. It showed how hard it is for Millennials to find good jobs in the present market. One 29 year-old man is moving (a common thing for Millennials) again and again and hopes to soon land something in New York. Nearing age 30 the one thing Andy Gleeson could tell Bonnie Miller Rubin (the writer of the Tribune article) was that his life was far from settled. That is, so far as the research shows, the common experience of Millennials. Said Andy Gleeson, “I thought by the time I reached 30, I’d be a lot further along in my career. But most of my friends are in the same situation.” The class of 2010 is hearing about great challenges in commencement speeches but the good jobs are scarce and many will have to return home to live with their parents, if they have parents that are still married. (Many will return to two homes or to a single-parent home.) The point, however, is clear: gaining a college degree and turning 21 means very little today. Millennials have stalled on the road to financial security. “Parents helped finance an expensive college education only to have their child return home to live in the basement,” as one researcher put it. Establishing an independent household is simply more difficult than ever, at least in our lifetime.

In 1960, 77% of women and 65% of men had acquired traditional markers of maturity by age 30: leaving home, completing school, full-time employment, marriage and family. In 2005 those numbers had plummeted to 27% of women and 39% of men, respectively. (The lower percentage of women might be indicative of the fact that far more women finish college now than men, but I am not sure.)

A Harvard study says that it can now take up to age 34 to step into those once traditional adult roles in society. This, by the way, is one reason that the new health care legislation allows young adults beyond age 22 to remain covered by their parents health insurance policy. (The U.S. invests little money in this demographic compared to some other Western nations. Expect, however, that the present administration will address this more than previous ones since it shows far more personal and political interest in this generation, one reason this age group voted for this president in large numbers.)

Mary Waters, a sociologist at Harvard who contributed to a major study of the Millennial generation notes: “We’re in this period of rapid change . . . and institutions just haven’t caught up.” Andy Gleeson, cited earlier from the Chicago Tribune feature, lives a life so different from that of his mother. She was married at 19, became a parent at 25 and, with just a high school diploma, landed a good job at State Farm Insurance in Bloomington (IL). She has remained in that one job ever since. This scenario is going to be extremely rare for the Millennials.

Many Millennials are going back for more education, returning to pursue an advanced degree in a field that interests them and seems more likely to help them land a good job. In 1970 1.03 million Americans continued their education beyond college while in 2007 the number had reached 2.7 million. But even this is not working out as most had hoped. Where a high school diploma could once land you a good job twenty-five years ago, and a college degree could land you an excellent job, today you get nowhere unless you have a graduate degree but even this is no guarantee in 2010.

The job site CollegeGrad.com did an online poll and found 64% of 2009 graduates are living back home in the nest. Most graduates, if employed, hold more than one job and many of these jobs have absolutely nothing to do with the degree the young adult did in college. More students are going to college than ever before but fewer and fewer are finding the jobs and a life that they had hoped for in their teen years.

One 28 year-old woman, who moved back to her home in suburban Chicago recently, summed it up when she said, “I never would have thought I’d be where I’m at now. I thought I’d be doing art and married. But we’re all doing the best we can . . . just trying to figure out life.”

As a Christian, and as a teacher of evangelism, it is this last statement that stuck with me. I think this young woman speaks for multitudes when she says, “We’re just trying to figure out life.”

Millennials are very open to “figuring out life.” They tend to celebrate diversity and remain optimistic, individualistic, self-inventive young adults. They are also the generation that is re-writing the rules in the wider culture. They grew up with the Internet, assume the importance of technology and multitask with amazing skill. While Generation X declared their independence from others the Millennials actually believe friends and family matter a great deal.

Millennials were raised during the most “child-centric period” in American history. Perhaps this explains their self-confidence, which just might be misplaced. But there are things about Millennials that should grab our attention if we want to reach them with the good news. They are typically team-oriented and will often band together to date and socialize rather than pairing off and going it alone. And they like structure in the workplace. They acknowledge and respect positions and titles and want a relationship with those they work with as well as with their boss. This makes them very different from Gen-X, a generation that loves independence and a hands-off style.

Millennials are seriously “trying to figure out life.” They share one thing in common if nothing else—they are in need of mentoring. They respond well to personal attention and friendship that involves sacrificial time investment. I love meeting with Millennials. I do it regularly and they inspire me like few Christians I know.

I have personally taught Christian Millennials for the past seven years at the graduate level. My students fit this profile perfectly. Even those who are married seem to fit it. I have never had such interesting, confident, searching and open young adults. They will rise to a challenge unlike the previous generation so long as they see that it will serve others and help them reach for the dream that they still cherish. These Millennials may be “stuck on the road to adulthood,” as the Chicago Tribune story implies, but they are also wide-open to the challenge of following Christ in serious discipleship. I hope I get to teach them for many years to come and I urge every church to seriously work at understanding this generation better. To know Millennials is to realize the up-side of this large group of young adults who will, sooner than later, shape the new America.

Join John Armstrong on Steve Brown Etc. as we discuss his new book, Your Church Is Too Small: Why Unity in Christ's Mission Is Vital to the Future of the Church.

John H. Armstrong is founder and president of ACT 3, a ministry for the advancement of the Christian Tradition in the third millennium. He is a former pastor and church-planter, of more than twenty years, the author/editor of eight books, and the author of hundreds of magazine, journal, and Web based articles. John has served as the editor-in-chief of ACT 3 Review: A Journal for Faith, Church and Culture since its origin in 1992. But most importantly, he is our go-to professional religionist.

Of all the tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. —C.S. Lewis

There is an unease in the air, a sense that a shift is taking place in the world. The signs are all around us: weapons of mass destruction, continual threats of terrorism, an emerging global police state, and a growing but over-extended military empire that is wreaking havoc on the American economy. All the while, troops are being deployed on American soil, raising the specter of martial law being declared at a moment's notice.

Profound confusion and fear abound. And as the pervasiveness of the government increases in our lives, freedom is being squelched. The reason, we are told, is to protect us and keep us safe.

Surveillance cameras now monitor virtually every area of our lives. When the government so chooses, it can listen in on our telephone calls and read our e-mails. And government intelligence agencies possess sophisticated computer technology that is capable of sweeping the internet and our website activity to determine what we are thinking and saying. The President can label anyone, including American citizens, "enemy combatants" and hold them indefinitely without access to family or an attorney.

These troubling developments are the outward manifestations of an inner, philosophical shift underway in how the government views not only the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, but "we the people," as well. What this reflects is a move away from a government bound by the rule of law to one that seeks total control through the imposition of its own self-serving laws on the populace. In this regard, recent remarks by President Obama (a former constitutional law professor) disdaining "liberal" U.S. Supreme Court decisions that protect the right of citizens is particularly telling. This would include, among other things, court decisions that provide lawyers for indigents and require the police to inform citizens of their rights when in custody.

And now, under the guise of fighting the "war on terrorism," the Obama administration wants Congress to allow law enforcement officials greater flexibility when it comes to issuing the Miranda warning ("You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…") to terrorism suspects. Presently, under the public safety exception to the Miranda rule, if law enforcement agents believe a suspect has information that might reduce a substantial threat, they can wait to give the Miranda warning. Unfortunately, Attorney General Eric Holder wants to see this exception extended to all cases involving so-called terror suspects. This could easily be extrapolated to apply not only to foreign individuals but also to American citizens exercising their First Amendment rights to speak out against controversial government policies with which they disagree.

This continual relaxing of the rules that protect our civil liberties will have far-reaching consequences on a populace that remains ignorant about their rights. As the U.S. Supreme Court recognized in its 1966 ruling in Miranda v. Arizona, the police can and often do take advantage of the fact that most citizens don't know their rights. Thus, the Court held that police officers must advise a suspect of his/her civil rights once the suspect has been taken into custody. There have been few exceptions to this rule over the last 40 years or so, and with good reason. However, if Congress gives the Obama administration the green light to scale back the Miranda rule, it would be yet another dangerous expansion of government power at the expense of citizens' civil rights.

The lesson is this: once a free people allows the government inroads into their freedoms or uses those same freedoms as bargaining chips for security, it quickly becomes a slippery slope to outright tyranny. Nor does it seem to matter whether it's a Democrat or a Republican at the helm anymore, because the bureaucratic mindset on both sides of the aisle now seems to embody the same philosophy of authoritarian government.

In fact, the outlook for civil liberties is growing bleaker by the day. Increasingly, those on the left who once hailed Barack Obama as the antidote for restoring the numerous civil liberties that were lost or undermined as a result of Bush-era policies are finding themselves forced to acknowledge that America under Obama is not much of an improvement over what it was under his predecessor. For example, author Naomi Wolf, who repeatedly warned that America was headed toward a fascist totalitarianism form of government under George W. Bush, has now taken to issuing the same warning about Obama. In her book End of America (2007), Wolf argued that the American government under Bush was mimicking the regimes of despots such as Mussolini, Hitler and Stalin. Under the Bush presidency, the country was characterized by, among other things, illegal surveillance, military detention of suspects (even American citizens) and paramilitary martial law. Thus, when asked in a March 2010 interview if her book, End of America, was still relevant under Obama, Wolf replied, "Unfortunately, it is more relevant. Bush legalized torture, but Obama is legalizing impunity. He promised to roll stuff back, but he is institutionalizing these things forever. It is terrifying and the left doesn't seem to recognize it."

It is not just those on the left who seem oblivious. Even in the face of outright corruption and incompetency on the part of our elected officials, Americans in general remain relatively gullible, eager to be persuaded that the government can solve the problems that plague us—whether it be terrorism, an economic depression, an environmental disaster or even a flu epidemic. Yet having bought into the false notion that the government can ensure not only our safety but our happiness and will take care of us from cradle to grave—that is, from daycare centers to nursing homes, we have in actuality allowed ourselves to be bridled and turned into slaves at the bidding of a government that cares little for our freedoms or our happiness.

This seductive yet fictitious notion that the government is "only working for our good" is one that C. S. Lewis aptly speaks to in God in the Dock (1971):

Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.

This is not to say that those in government are necessarily evil or out to enslave us. Rather, their priorities are to remain in control and in power, which stands in opposition to the principles of free government. And even in the process of seeking worthy goals, such governments incredibly undermine and destroy fundamental principles. Playwright Robert Bolt poses this dilemma in A Man for All Seasons (1960):

SIR THOMAS MORE: Yes. What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?

ROPER: I'd cut down every law in England to do that!

SIR THOMAS MORE:…. Oh?…. And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned round on you—where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat?…. This country's planted thick with laws from coast to coast—man's laws, not God's—and if you cut them down…d'you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?

What we are grappling with today is a government that is cutting great roads through the very foundations of freedom in order to get after its modern devils. Yet the government can only go as far as "we the people" allow. Therein lies the problem. Having allowed the government to expand and exceed our reach, we find ourselves on the losing end of a tug-of-war over control of our country and our lives.The hour grows late in terms of restoring the balance of power and reclaiming our freedoms, but it may not be too late. The time to act is now, using all methods of nonviolent resistance available to us. "Don't sit around waiting for the two corrupted established parties to restore the Constitution or the Republic," Naomi Wolf recently said. "The founding generation was birthed by the rabble of all walks of life that got fed up and did risky things because they were captivated by the breath of liberty. There is a looming oligarchy and it is up to the people to organize a grassroots movement and push back."

Constitutional attorney John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute and author of The Change Manifesto. He can be contacted at johnw@rutherford.org. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.

John W. Whitehead's weekly commentaries are available for publication to newspapers and web publications at no charge. Please contact marketing@rutherford.org to obtain reprint permission.

But my life never stabilized, I still wasn’t married, and I couldn’t afford my own fridge, let alone a house. When was it going to be a good time, if ever? In a burst of Thanksgiving inspiration, I logged onto Compassion.com. My eyes landed on a photo of a Kenyan girl: teeny, forlorn, wearing a borrowed school uniform five sizes too big. She’d probably wear it for the next six years, if her parents didn’t have to pull her from school. (The per capita income in Kenya is $1700 a year. High school costs $500 a year. Do the math).

It’s been five years since I started sponsoring Helen, and it has been a privilege to watch her grow. Her letters reveal a girl emerging with a sense of herself, her place in the world, and her place in God’s kingdom. One Christmas I was able to give the family $300. She wrote to tell me they bought a cow, a goat, a bed, shoes and jeans for her, and a trip to the hospital for her grandmother. What would that same money have bought me? Three months of cable?

Two weeks ago I got to travel to El Salvador with Compassion, to see how the program works. Compassion seeks out communities in greatest need, partners with a local church, and sets up a center at that church. The program aims to provide physical, emotional, educational, and spiritual development so they can emerge as productive adults.

And that’s what I saw at the centers: children eating a good meal (maybe the only meal they’d eat that day), getting help with their school work, and learning usable skills like sewing, metal shop, and computer literacy. I also saw a lot of lively worship and faces filled with hope. For a child growing up in dire poverty, it’s a miracle for them to dream of becoming a doctor or a teacher or a secretary. If their parents are lucky to work, they make about $5 a day. The cost of living remains high: a can of Diet Coke is 65¢, or 15% of a day’s wage. Can you imagine paying $25 for a can of soda?

The miracle of these children’s hope became all too clear when we visited the homes where they lived. Most of them are built in what look like horse stables. Another was merely an improvised shelter next to a bank of a river. The first home was run by Miguel, a single dad who was taking care of two sons, a niece, and his mother. He worked four jobs to keep afloat. Sometimes he came home just long enough to glance at his kids before leaving for the next job. Miguel asked what we loved about work. He listened intently, and then told us his dream would be to talk to people about Compassion. He’d witnessed how it had changed his sons’ lives, kept them out of the gang that had congregated across the street. Miguel had been Christian for 22 years. You could see the hardship on his face, as well as the hope. For all his poverty, he was rich in hope.

The dwelling against the river wasn’t as hopeful. There were seven people living there: three adults and four children. The walls made of random pieces of corrugated metal. Box springs jutted up out of the rocks to keep the kids from falling into the river below. There was a grandmother, a mother, and three children present. The mother, Alicia, had just joined Compassion’s Child Survival Program. The CSP will provide her and her baby with food, supplements, regular check ups, and education. Alicia said she enjoys taking her baby to play. You see, most of the women in this community don’t have a clean, safe floor on which to place a baby. Her five-year-old daughter, Graciela, is now old enough to get sponsored but hasn’t been chosen. When someone asked Alicia what her dreams were for her children, she didn’t understand the question. When you live in those circumstances you don’t dream. But as my friend Margot (who was also at the house) said later, if we came back in five years, she will have dreams. I think she will. The CSP program she attends is at Solomon’s church.

Solomon grew up in the slums with no father. But he was sponsored by Compassion. Today he’s a pastor and oversees seven local parishes in the area. A few days before he had no money and no gas to get to his job. “Then a lady from this parish handed me five dollars for gas. That’s a day’s wage.” Someone asked the pastor how he could live with such poverty. A smirk spread across his face. “Poor? My church isn’t poor.”

Here’s something I will never forget: we were standing in a classroom observing some small children learn about Salvadoran Folklore. The building faced out onto a dirt road into the village. The window had bars but no glass, so someone on the street could look in and listen. There were three boys standing at the window, listening to every word. These were boys who wanted to be inside. They wanted to be there, learning. It struck me: they weren’t inside, because no one had sponsored them. I turned my face into the corner and cried.

One of my new friends, Alejandro, told me a story. Alejandro is 18 now, but when he was a child, he was that boy standing on the outside of the window. He wanted to go to school but his parents couldn’t afford tuition or uniforms for grammar school. One day at church a woman told his mom that she had a vision of Alejandro. He was wearing a business suit. Alejandro refused to give up on that dream. Eventually he was sponsored through Compassion. He excelled in school and at church. Last year, Alejandro and two other boys from this neighborhood were accepted into Compassion’s Leadership Development Program. They have received scholarships to attend university. Miguel is studying law, Nixon is studying computer science, and Alejandro is studying business administration. Here is a picture of Alejandro with his mom and sister. Notice he’s wearing a suit.

It’s been five years since I started sponsoring Hellen. Since then I got married and moved into a house. We don’t own it, but we own the second-hand fridge on which her photo is tacked. We sponsor another boy through Children’s Hope Chest. We can’t afford cable TV, but we can’t afford not to sponsor these kids.

You too can do it. You can take that boy off the street and put him in a classroom. You can do it through Compassion, World Vision, Children’s Hope Chest, or any number of groups. Sponsoring a child will change a community, one child at a time. It will change a child’s life. And it will change yours.

The kingdom of God is NOW. What are you waiting for?

Here are two videos. Author Margot Starbuck made the first; it really sums up how Compassion works. The next is a video I made, inspired by Alejandro and the presentation his drama group gave for us.

Margot:

Susan’s Video:

Susan Isaacs is a writer, actor, and comedienne with TV and film credits including Planes Trains & Automobiles, Scrooged, Seinfeld, The Drew Carey Show, My Name Is Earl and more. She is an alumnus of The Groundlings Sunday Company and the author of Angry Conversations With God: A Snarky But Authentic Spiritual Memoir.

Click here to listen to Susan's most recent appearance on Steve Brown Etc.

The story, as you would expect, openly admits that this local story about the rise of the Episcopal Church’s first openly lesbian, partnered bishop has national and global elements. Here is the section of the story that makes this clear, while stressing the racial diversity of her new home diocese and its power base of progressive parishes.

“The Diocese of Los Angeles is tremendously exciting to me,” said Glasspool, who spoke of the “very creative ways in which the church there does its mission and ministry,” and the fact that on any given Sunday across the diocese, the liturgy is being celebrated in some 40 languages.

Glasspool’s election by the Diocese of Los Angeles in December and her confirmation by the rest of the Episcopal Church in March have further strained relations with the Anglican Communion, which were already were complicated by the consecration in 2003 of The Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire as the first openly gay bishop and the election in 2006 of the Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori as the first woman to head a national branch of Anglicanism.

After Glasspool’s election, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who has labored to prevent a schism in the word’s third-largest Christian denomination, issued an unusually direct statement, warning that the decision raised “very serious questions not just for the Episcopal Church and its place in the Anglican Communion, but for the Communion as a whole.”

As always, the direct parallel is made between sexual orientation and race — through the voice of the current leader of the tiny Diocese of Maryland.

Bishop Eugene Taylor Sutton of Maryland said the communion is in the midst of a fight, and “it’s a fight worth having. … Whenever the church has tried to limit leadership based on a person’s biology, in most cases they have had to admit that was a mistake.”

Sutton, who in 2008 became the first African-American to lead the Diocese of Maryland, offers himself as an example. As recently as 50 years ago, Sutton said, he probably would not have been welcome to worship in most of the parishes he now oversees.

Does the story note the irony that the global opposition to her consecration is led by Africans, Asians and other leaders from the giant, growing churches of the Global South? No. That would be too complicated.

So what is the battle really about? How does her church fit into the larger, global Anglican Communion? Glasspool argues that the fight is essentially about authority and power in a loose network of churches.

A creature of the American Revolution, the Episcopal Church of the United States now rattles the whole communion in matters of sexuality, although Glasspool argues that’s not the issue.

“It has to do not with issues of sexuality but of power and authority,” said Glasspool. “You don’t hear an outcry about ordaining lesbians and gay people. But once they attain more authority and leadership there’s an outcry. There have been gay and lesbian people throughout history, and there have been gay and lesbian people in the church throughout history.”

Is any other point of view offered on this issue? Of course not. That would be too complicated.

Does the story even mention any other doctrinal issues facing the Anglican Communion, issues that have been given some ink in — to cite one prime setting — The New York Times? No, that would be too complicated.

The point of the story, after all, is that this woman should not be defined by her sexuality. That is a great and appropriate journalistic goal. So, what is her stance on other crucial issues, doctrinal issues, that are causing cracks in the Anglican Communion? How would she describe her Christology, her view of the Virgin Birth, the historical reality of the Resurrection, the question of whether salvation can only be found through belief in Jesus, the nature of biblical authority? Issues of gender and liturgy? Or is her sexuality all that matters?

Has she written or said anything on these issues? What about during the selection process in Los Angeles? Are there critics in Maryland or California — or in other parts of the world, like England — who have studied her life and work and might be able to offer insights, as part of a journalistic process in which the views of both sides are quoted accurately and with empathy?

Critics? Another side of the issue? You must be kidding, we’re talking about the Baltimore Sun. There was one paragraph of commentary from Anglican traditionalists in the story that ran when she was elected. That’ll do.

Come on. Why does anyone need to ask journalistic questions? There is only one side to this issue, to this story.

Controversy? What controversy?

Journalism? What journalism?

Professor Terry Mattingly writes the nationally syndicated On Religion column for the Scripps Howard News Service in Washington, D.C., which is sent to about 350 newspapers in North America. He's also a regular contributor at GetReligion.org and the author of the book Pop Goes Religion: Faith in Popular Culture.

When we live this way each day, each moment, becomes a kind of sacrament. Every moment contains something in it that we need to fulfill our deepest need. That need is to love God with all our heart and our neighbor as ourselves. When we live in the present moment we become present in that moment and to others. Our posture toward everything changes. We wake up wondering, “What will God show me and do in me today?” Or, “How will I really see him in the ordinariness of my day?”

Catherine of Siena described what I speak of this way: “To the true servant of God every place is the right place and every time is the right time.”

There is a modern way to say this—wherever you are be all there! For as long as I can remember I have wanted to serve the Lord. I have wanted my life to make a difference, to truly matter. I think every Christian thinks this way. But I have lived much of the time for what will happen when this and that happens. In my military prep school I asked: “How can I become a cadet officer and graduate with honors?” In college I asked, “How can I prepare to become a pastor or missionary?” In the pastorate I asked, “How can I prepare my next sermon and become the most effective preacher and pastor I can be?” In my present ministry it has been, “How can I reach as many leaders as possible with the message God has given to me?” But these are the wrong questions.

If I live in the present I am living in the only place I can truly be. We cannot live out our plans for the future or dwell upon the memories of the past. Our calling is to set our sails today for the breezes that will blow through us in the present moment.

St. Therese of Liseux (left) understood this very thing when she wrote: “The path to holiness is fidelity in small things.” Living this way redefines the notion of a divine call. Mother Teresa understood the key to living in the moment when she said, “Do what’s in front of you.” Oswald Chambers was also right when he wrote: “Trust God and do the next thing!”

If you are living in Christ then stop focusing on tomorrow and do what is in front of you in the moment. After all, the only thing you have for sure is this moment. Live in it fully and you will know the presence of Christ.

Join John Armstrong on Steve Brown Etc. this Friday, May 14, as we discuss his new book, Your Church Is Too Small: Why Unity in Christ's Mission Is Vital to the Future of the Church.

John H. Armstrong is founder and president of ACT 3, a ministry for the advancement of the Christian Tradition in the third millennium. He is a former pastor and church-planter, of more than twenty years, the author/editor of eight books, and the author of hundreds of magazine, journal, and Web based articles. John has served as the editor-in-chief of ACT 3 Review: A Journal for Faith, Church and Culture since its origin in 1992. But most importantly, he is our go-to professional religionist.

This cartoon was provoked by something I saw on Facebook yesterday. Someone was thanking God for healing someone. They said something like, “God is awesome! We serve a God who always answers prayer!” Or something like that. I immediately thought of all the people who simply couldn’t say that. At least not now. This picture popped into my mind of the two realities that can be experienced in adjacent hospital rooms: one has just lost someone and is in complete anguish; the other has regained someone and is ecstatic. I’m not arguing whether one is right and the other is wrong. I’m just suggesting that sometimes we are grossly unaware of the pain and suffering of this world for most people. Sometimes including ourselves.

nakedpastor is David Hayward. David is a virtual free-range pastor artistically stripping to the essential. Go to nakedpastor.com for more cartoons, blog posts, art and insight from a pastor who's stark naked honest about church life.

(If you're on the front page of the site, click the title of this post to see the video player.)

Constitutional attorney John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute and author of The Change Manifesto. He can be contacted at johnw@rutherford.org. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.

John W. Whitehead's weekly commentaries are available for publication to newspapers and web publications at no charge. Please contact marketing@rutherford.org to obtain reprint permission.

Four years ago my husband Larry and I went to a Saturday night Easter vigil at an Episcopal church. It blew us away. Two years ago we joined an Episcopal church near our home, and when Holy Week came around, we knew we didn’t want to miss the action. The Anglicans know how to take you through Holy Week. It's like the Lectio Divina in 3-D. You are THERE. And if all time is present —the “eternal now”—to God, then in a way you can participate in the week as it's happening.

Throughout the week I stopped to think what Jesus was doing. Did he throw out the moneychangers on Monday and weep over Jerusalem on Tuesday? What about Wednesday? Were his disciples getting worried about Jesus’ growing tension? Why should he worry? After all, he was going to throw down the government! (At least, that’s what the disciples thought.)

Maundy Thursday arrived, the night of the Last Supper. Our junior pastor Sari asked us: if you knew this was your last night on earth alive, what would you say to your friends? He walked us through that meal, showing us what Jesus did and said his last night before his death. He interrupted the Passover Seder to tell his friends: this bread? This is ME. This wine, this is MY blood. You need to eat it and drink it. DO IT. And love one another. That’s how the world will know you are different. That’s how they’ll know you belong to me.” And then Jesus washed their feet. Summarily we had the Foot Washing. I was ready to wash someone’s feet. I didn’t realize that our pastors washed ours. Talk about humbling. Then it came time for communion. Sari gave me a swatch of that bread, pressed it firmly into my palm and said with deliberation: "Susan: this Christ's body. TAKE IT. EAT IT." I’ve always felt the gravity of communion. But this time I was there at that table with the disciples. I knew what it meant, that bread. And I knew what it was going to mean in less than 24 hours.

The choir sang during communion. No jaunty triumphant songs. Not yet. O Sacred Head Now Wounded, Let All Mortal Flesh keep Silent, and To Mock Your Reign. The latter is set to Thomas Tallis' Third Tune. Here’s Ralph Vaughan Williams’ composition based on the tune. Try playing it while you read the words.

To Mock Your Reign

To mock your reign, O dearest Lord, they made a crown of thorns;
Set you with taunts along that road from which no one returns.
They could not know as we do now, that glorious is your crown;
that thorns would flower upon your brow, your sorrows heal our own.

In mock acclaim, O gracious Lord, they snatched a purple cloak,
Your passion turned, for all they cared, into a soldier's joke.
They could not know, as we do now, that though we merit blame,
You will your robe of mercy throw around our naked shame.

A sceptered reed, O patient Lord, they thrust into your hand,
And acted out their grim charade to its appointed end.
They could not know, as we do now, though empires rise and fall,
Your Kingdom shall not cease to grow till love embraces all.

The choir sang on as the pastors stripped the altar. Episcopalians have a lot of stuff up in the front of the church. Banners, doilies, candles, flowers, and of course the cross. But they stripped all of it, washed the altar. (Pastor Anne said this signified getting that altar ready for a dead body to lie on it. Yeah, no jaunty Easter eggs just yet). And then they left. The choir vacated their place up front and sat in the pews. We sat there staring at the entire front area of the church, totally bare, barren, bereft. Jesus was off getting arrested by now.

Suddenly ALL the lights in the church went out, the heavy wooden door into the altar area was SLAMMED SHUT. It sounded like a gunshot. We sat there in the dark. Stunned. Silent. There was the sound of tears somewhere off behind me. And in front of me. And next to me. And mine.

Friday at noon I took our dog for a walk. It was fittingly murky outside: neither cold nor hot, rainy or sunny. I found myself counting my steps, praying for Jesus to have strength. Yes, in human time Christ won the victory long before I was born. But in eternal time, I could actually walk the Via Dolorosa with him. “You can do it, I found myself saying out loud. “We are standing with you.” And I could weep.

We attended Good Friday services.  Pastor John gave a shortened sermon on waiting, longing and disappointment. Fitting for the dashed hopes of Jesus' followers.   But what really impacted me was the scripture reading that night: a staged reading of the events on Good Friday. They were short a reader, so Pastor Anne roped me into participating. I got off easy: I read Pilate and the chick who accused Peter of being one of Jesus' cronies.  Poor Larry had to sit in the congregation and shout, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" Try reading that and walking out clean.

Saturday I thought about what it was like for the disciples to have witnessed the previous 24 hours. They were off huddling somewhere in shock. Their leader had been assassinated. All those plans about the kingdom of God coming, arriving, it was gone. All those hopes about justice returning? Gone. And all those moments with their friend? Over. Done. He was dead. DEAD. We sit from our confident promontory in 2010 A.D., we know how it all turned out. But they didn't know. Not yet.

We attended Easter Vigil on Saturday night. We were told to bring bells. (In what church service can you actually say, "More cowbell?") This is my favorite service of Holy Week. You arrive in darkness. Jesus is still dead. The only light in the church is that of the candle you hold. We read four lessons: The Creation, the Flood, Ezekiel, and Isaiah 53. I don’t know why the church chooses these passages, but I couldn’t help wonder that, in the midst of this horrible tragedy, God is pausing to remind his people of all he has done for them up to this point: Remember how I made this world and called it good? Remember that even when I wanted to wipe out evil entirely, I spared Noah? Remember when you thought you were dead and all hope was gone, that I breathed life back in you? And remember your idea that the Messiah was gonna be a kick-ass rock star? Think again: it’s right there in the scriptures. He’s going to be led like a lamb to the slaughter. For your sins he will be chastised. And by his stripes you will be healed.

At this point the candidates were baptized, and we reaffirmed our own decision to die to Self. Then the newly baptized were presented to us: they stood in a line, in candlelight, at the front of the church.

Then, while the church was still in darkness, Pastor Anne charged out to the front and shouted, like Mary rushing back from the garden: “HE’S ALIVE! CHRIST IS RISEN!”

All the lights in the church flipped on; the organ fired up, the choir shouted and we rang our cowbells. The words of Wesley’s hymn never seemed so alive to me.

Love's redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids Him rise, Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

Soar we now where Christ hath led, Alleluia!
Following our exalted Head, Alleluia!
Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia!
Who did once upon the cross, Alleluia!
Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia!

Sunday morning I went to the grocery store to pick up some items for Easter Brunch. I couldn’t help but hum the tune as I was walking down the aisle. As I left the store a woman smiled and said, “Happy Easter!”
I replied, “Happy Easter, Christ has risen!”

I don’t know if I shocked her. But it should have: the reality is shocking: Christ has opened paradise. Allefreakinluia!

Susan Isaacs is a writer, actor, and comedienne with TV and film credits including Planes Trains & Automobiles, Scrooged, Seinfeld, The Drew Carey Show, My Name Is Earl and more. She is an alumnus of The Groundlings Sunday Company and the author of Angry Conversations With God: A Snarky But Authentic Spiritual Memoir.