"I work at a nonprofit."

We're having dinner, or playing games, or something innocuous like that. It's a group of potential friends, acquaintances at best, so we're covering the basic questions of hometown, work, things like that. I survey the group. I've lived in five states in the last ten years; this isn't new territory. Along the way, I've learned to gauge better how much to reveal.

So, sometimes, I introduce myself, "I work at a nonprofit."

We move on to other people and other things. I'm welcome. There's lots of laughter. The conversation is comfortable.

And I told the truth. Or at least I did't lie. I do work at a nonprofit. It just so happens that the nonprofit is a church. And I'm the pastor.

I don't tell the whole truth in many groups, though, because I've experienced what happens. People feel uncomfortable around me. They apologize for cussing. They look at the alcoholic drinks in their hands and fidget, even if I have one in my hand, too. They feel like they have to explain their lack of involvement in church to me or tell me about their childhood church. At worst, they spew the hatred they feel for the church at me; it's an incredibly potent hatred.

So, I choose the partial truth instead. "I work at a nonprofit." At least I choose that some of the time.

My older friends tell me of a time when most people, at least in the US, thought church was mostly good. Christian was the default. Even folks who didn't attend church knew they should. Very few spoke ill of the church. I'm willing to believe that was once true; trusted friends say it was so.

But it's not any more.

That anger that I'm not willing to have heaped upon me--there's usually a good reason for it. Rejection by the church, sometimes for things as silly as coming late or sitting in the wrong place, is often the reason. Other reasons include forced church attendance, lots of talk of hellfire once there, and failure to include newcomers in the community. That's just a few reasons. There are more, many, many more.

When I worship at an Episcopal church, as I sometimes do on Sunday evenings when I long to simply be part of the congregation at worship, I always appreciate the confession of sin. This part rings especially potent, "We have not loved you with our whole hearts. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent."

We need to say something like that more, the voices of the whole church joined together. We're talking about institutional sin, here, not individual or even individual congregations. As a whole, the church has done things that has left beloved children of God angry and bitter.

And I think, if we figured out a way to do that, I would say I work at a nonprofit far, far less.