Voices In My Head Podcast Episode 326: Lyz Lenz - God Land

This episode of Voices in My Head is brought to you by Podbean. With Podbean, you can create professional podcasts in minutes without any programming knowledge. Best of all, everything is mobile ready right from the start. Visit podbean.com/voices to find out more. That's podbean.com/voices. This is Rick Lee James, and the music you are hearing is from my new album, Thunder. The title track, Thunder, is a never-before never-before-released song by the late Rich Mullins. There are also 12 other tracks made up of original music, hymns, and readings to guide the listener on a journey. You can buy Thunder today on clear vinyl and CD, or stream it on Spotify, Apple Music, and almost every other music streaming service. Thunder, hear it today at rickleejames.com. Welcome to Voices in My Head, the official podcast of me, Rick Lee James. I'm a recording artist, a singer, a songwriter, an author, a worship leader, and an ordained minister in the Church of the Nazarene. The Voices in My Head podcast is where I discuss music, movies, books, pop culture, theology, and more with friends, colleagues, and sometimes just by myself. Now make sure to let me know what you think of today's episode by leaving me a review on iTunes or by tweeting at me @RickLeeJames. @RickLeeJames on Twitter. And please join my mailing list at RickLeeJames.com where you can receive an email every time a new episode is released. By the way, in case you're interested in a daily dose of kindness and encouragement beyond this podcast, I also run the Twitter account @MrRogersSay where I post daily quotes from Fred Rogers, one of the voices in my head. Well, I guess that's it for the intro, so sit back, relax, and listen to the latest episode of Voices in My Head. In the wake of the 2016 election, Liz Lenz watched as her country and her marriage were torn apart by the competing forces of faith and politics. A mother of two, a Christian, and a lifelong resident of Middle America, Lenz was bewildered by the pain and loss around her, the empty churches and the broken hearts. What was happening to faith in the heartland? From drugstores in Sidney, Iowa, to skeet shooting in rural Illinois, to the megachurches of Minneapolis, Linz set out to discover the changing forces of faith and tradition in God's country. Part journalism, part memoir, Godland is a journey into the heart of a deeply divided America. Linz visits places of worship across the heartland and speaks to the everyday people who often struggle to keep their churches afloat and to cope in a land of instability. Through a thoughtful interrogation of the effects of faith and religion on our lives, our relationships, and our country, Godland investigates whether our divides can ever be bridged, and if America can ever come together. Liz Lenz, welcome to the Voices in My Head podcast.

Hi, thanks for having me.

And I should say to the listeners as well, I forgot to welcome our listeners too, but everybody listening, thank you for coming to Voices in My Head. It's great to have you listening in to this conversation today. Liz, I finished your book Godland that your publisher was kind enough to send me a few weeks ago, and it really is a very interesting, um, fascinating and in many ways a heartbreaking read. And I appreciate the research and the time it took you to do that, and I really appreciate you taking some moments today to be able to have a conversation about it.

Yeah, well, I'm excited to talk about it.

Now, before we get into anything too deep, uh, this has absolutely nothing to do with Godland, but I was just fascinated by it and I wanted to find out about something real quick. I read somewhere that you enjoy doing stand-up comedy, and is that true? Or, you know, because your, your website has some, you know, pretty funny jokes along the way, like, you know, where you can send hate mail and things like that. So I'd love to know more. Are you, are you kind of a part-time stand-up?

I, um, after— yes, I, I am a person who thinks they're hilarious. I'm one of those very insufferable people. And after I got divorced, one of the things I wanted to do was just try new things. And one of the things I had always really, really wanted to do was to just do stand-up comedy. I spent so many years in high school and college as a member of the speech and debate team. And yeah, we did a lot of individual events, and so I kind of just had it in me. I've always really loved public speaking. Most people hate it. I'm deeply narcissistic and kind of love it. So I was like, well, why not just give it a shot? So I went and watched some stand-up comedy, uh, in local clubs, you know, practiced my routine, and, um, now it's just something I really enjoy doing. I don't think I would ever make a career out of it. I don't think I'm good enough for that, but I, I think it's really beneficial to just have hobbies and things that you do just because you enjoy them, and, uh, it's really great making people laugh. I really, really love it.

Well, that's terrific. And you know, it takes a lot of bravery too, I would think, because it's one thing to, you know, kind of be funny around your family and friends, and it's a whole other thing when you're able to actually get up and be funny in front of people, you know.

Actually, my family and friends are a way harder crowd than any sort of like, any sort of club. I mean, maybe that's just because like, who are my family and friends? But, um, yeah, I'm— I don't ever feel like in my everyday life I'm the funniest person in the room. Um, And I think that's one of the challenges that I love so much about stand-up. It's like you go in, and you make jokes, and you have to get these people on your team and on your side and wanting to laugh for you. And a lot of the places I give jokes, which I think maybe transitions to the book a little bit, are not spaces where people necessarily want to laugh at me. My jokes are usually joking about feminism and— I do a lot of political stuff, but often the places where I do the stand-up is in clubs, or the one club in Cedar Rapids where it's a little bit more politically mixed. It's often very, very, very male. But I think that's part of the fun of it. Part of the challenge is communicating across a divide and seeing if you can get people to laugh at you. Well, and you know, it isn't—

It is interesting as sort of a transition into your book in some ways. I've heard, you know, there's congregations in churches and then there's audiences in comedy clubs. I'm sure.

Yeah.

I've heard different comedians say that the climate has changed and is so differently, like there's some things that they're a little bit scared to even joke about. And I feel like, and it's politically, like I've heard, I think it was the comedian Dana Gould talk about, he made a joke about the president, which, you know, is not uncommon for comedians to do throughout history. And he made a president joke and somebody threw like a glass or something like that was really like, could have been, you know, really hurt him, you know, up on the stage. And I think about like sort of the changing climate in a lot of congregations too. It's almost like there's a lack of humor and more of a seriousness about things that maybe at one time there would have been a little more openness and freedom to talk about. So it's kind of interesting, those contrasting, you know, places. The similarities.

Yeah, I'm not sure. You know, I wonder about that. You know, you say there might be less freedom. I question that. I think what's happening is there is— people are experiencing consequences of speech that they normally didn't experience before because of privilege. And I think the people who are experiencing this the most, and I can understand why it's confusing and probably upsetting, whereas you feel like you've walked through the world being able to make jokes or say things that you normally were able to say, and all of a sudden now people are pushing back. I think that pushback was always there, but the majority of these people never had to face it because of the function of privilege, the function of power. Because I think that if you talk to women or people of color, they would say, "I've always felt afraid of saying things." You know what I mean? "I've always known that there are boundaries." And there are boundaries. I gave a talk recently on humor and writing, and somebody came up to me after, and she was like, "Do you think there are boundaries on humor?" And I was like, "Absolutely there are." There are jokes I would never make nor should I ever make because they would appropriate, they would offend, and they would demean, and they might even retraumatize somebody. But I think about that because of my own trauma, of my own experiences, and I know what it's like to be in an audience, in a church pew, listening to somebody talk about my experience in a way that retraumatizes me. So I think this is something that like marginalized people and groups have always known and always felt, and it's something that men are starting to experience. And it's good, and we should question it, and we should always interrogate this. But I think what's new is perhaps privilege is being questioned and privilege is being stripped away. I don't think that— I don't think that the pain is new. I don't think the offense is new. I think what's new is people are finally feeling empowered to question authority and to strip away privilege.

Interesting. All right, well, I appreciate that perspective, especially as someone who, you know, has been in both realms. So that's awesome. Well, let's talk— let's dive into your book here, Godland. And it's a powerful read, and I really love the blend of the way that you mix journalism in with really your own personal memoir. And you started on this journalistic endeavor, and it was very personal. And, you know, you start out really in the book, it's kind of a very stark place, and I want to let you talk about it and be the one to talk about it. But when you start the writing of the book, you're married, you're a mother, you're a wife, you're, you know, kind of a part of a congregation. And by the time the book has ended, you find yourself in really a different place. You've gone through a divorce, and this has really been not just a journalistic endeavor for you, but it has been a very personal journey with some real consequences that you've experienced throughout. So as you write about this and the life that you've lived, I really want to let you kind of feel free to tell your story and give us just a little bit of your journey of how this project started and maybe some expectations you had and then some things that maybe surprised you along the way.

Yeah, well, the personal aspect was a surprise. When I had— it was back in, I believe it was February of 2015. Or no, nope. Yes, February of 2015. No, I'm sorry, November of 2015. I was looking this up recently, so I was trying trying to remember all the dates, but it was about November of 2015. I pitched a story to a place called Pacific Standard. It's a wonderful magazine, and they publish some great journalism. And I had pitched a story about faith in specifically Iowa, but also Middle America, saying like, "Hey, it's changing, and it feels different to me here, and I think this is gonna impact." the caucuses, and I think it's gonna impact the 2016 election. Because, you know, Iowa is the first in the nation, and I've lived in Iowa for 14 years, and it just, it was feeling different. The conversations felt different, and it was tense, more tense than anything I'd experienced before. And I think that's significant because I've always been the most liberal person in a very conservative space. I grew up deeply evangelical, homeschooled in Texas, and I was always that kid who was, you know, you know, questioning everything and getting in trouble for my big mouth. And then, you know, and then I was married to somebody who was deeply conservative and a part of that evangelical faith. And so, you know, this was something that I felt acutely in the spaces that I occupied. So I wrote this article, and it did really well. And Indiana University Press approached me, and the article was published in February of 2016. And Indiana University Press approached me in about March, and they were like, you should turn this into a book. And I was like, I don't know, you know. I'd been trying to sell a different book at the time, which was about religion and women and was also deeply personal. But I, you know, I was like, I don't know, should I do it? Should I not? And so we went back and forth over that whole summer. What would it look like? You know, they're an academic press. I'm not an academic writer.. But I am a journalist and, you know, and I, then I finally sold the book. Um, and then I sold the book right after the election, basically, you know, because the election happened and I was like, well, we gotta do this. And I signed the contract on December 19th, 2016, which was my birthday. And, um, and so, but like, as I conceived it and I had written an outline for the chapters I didn't conceive it to be that personal. I had, you know, it was initially just going to be very like research-oriented, research-focused. I wanted to tell other people's stories. But as I began the research process, something that had begun in 2015, and, you know, I continued throughout as we were doing like the negotiations on what the book would look like, and then continued in earnest after the sale, that it was, it was it was so perfectly aligned, my research with my personal life, that there was a moment, and the moment happened when I was— it's chapter 9, I believe— when I go to spend the week with the Baptist ministers in Morton, Illinois. And there was this moment where I'm looking around the room and I'm, and I'm feeling my personal decline. I wouldn't want to say decline, but I'm feeling my personal loss coincide with just like a tension in the room, and I thought, "Oh no, I have to write this." Like, this is part of the story. And so when I did sit down to write the book, I was given the gift of spending a month in, at Collegeville, which is in St. John's up in northern Minnesota. They had given me this great gift of like, "Come for a month, write your book." "Um, we'll give you a little bit of money. It'll be great." And, um, so when I— and I wrote most of the book in that one month, just because of the way my life was. I had no time to write. Um, primary caretaker of two kids and researching and trying to make a living and all this kind of stuff. And so when I sat down to write it, it happened kind of in this, like, fevered rush that I felt like it was so deeply personal but also so deeply political that the two just kind of melded together when I wrote it. I wrote it. But the intent was never to put my whole life on page. But as my life fell apart while I was researching the book, it just became very clear that the two were connected in a way that was very, very real and visceral. And I also think that probably the ambition of wanting to write a book— was a mitigating factor too. You know, the desire to be, to have ambition and to push farther is not something that's often rewarded in women, and it definitely wasn't rewarded in my case. I mean, you know, you can argue what the reward was, but in order to do that, it came with personal loss, so. Sure.

Well, thank you for sharing that. And by the way, congratulations on the book being sold. That's not an easy thing, you know. No, it's not.

It's not. And I think we were talking earlier, but I have a second book that will be coming out in the spring. So—

Right. And Belabored, I believe?

Yes, Belabored. Yes. Yeah. So, yeah, it's cool. It's incredible. I feel like I work all the time and never sleep, but it is just truly a gift. And I was talking to my dad yesterday for Father's Day, and he was like, he was like, how are you doing? Are you stressed out? And I'm like, I'll never sell two books at the same time again. And he was like, you'll never get the chance to. It's just like, it's been a real, it's been a real incredible opportunity.

Yeah, well, congratulations on that in the midst. And I know you probably need good news like that along the way to counter the hard stuff too. It's good to have the victories along the way with those things.

Yeah, it's bittersweet because they feel like the one can't come without the other, and I wish that our world was a different place. But I guess that's a driving factor of Godland, is that I want the world to be a different place. I want faith to be different than it is because I don't think think that people should have to give up everything, you know, in order to occupy the spaces that they want to occupy.

So, sure. Well, um, getting into the book a little bit more, you, you write about spending a lifetime sort of straining against your, your pre-arranged place as a woman with— within the white Protestant world. And, um, and what were some of the things that you personally were struggling against, because this is so much really a part of your story. And as you had just talked about, it started out really as a journalistic endeavor that wasn't going to be so much about you. But I think for you to maintain, you know, some integrity in this, you wanted to be an authentic person as well. And I just loved it for you to maybe share with some of our listeners who maybe haven't read the book yet some of the things that you personally found yourself struggling against.

I think very— the book The book talks very in-depth about my struggle to find a church with my ex-husband, where he was, you know, more conservatively inclined with his Christian belief, and I was more social justice, progressive inclined. And, you know, I hope that your listeners will forgive the way I describe these, you know, these varying types of faith. I know that progressive can be a problematic title, and so can conservative, but for a loss of a better way to use them. That's kind of where we were. And so we had been going to a church we thought we liked, but eventually had to leave because I was getting repeatedly censured by the pastors for doing things like having an opinion or speaking out. There was a very significant situation where we had gone on a trip to build wells in El Salvador, and I, you know, I had gone thinking that I was gonna be— I was just one of two women on the trip. I'd gone in thinking I was part of the team. I wasn't allowed to do any manual labor, and then got— and I ended up— it turned out to be a gift because I ended up spending a lot of time with this female minister and who works and lives in these communities in El Salvador, and she was just so— it was incredible to just be with her and see her work. But one day I had tried to share that at our little Bible study and was censured by the pastor for doing that, for speaking out in kind of like a church setting, and which is a thing we're still fighting about in Christian faith, right? Should women Should women preach? And what does that look like? And how does that look like? And it turned into a real big thing where when we finally— even my very conservative husband, who when he saw that happen was like, "This isn't right." And, you know, and although we have our differences, you know, he would say that the way that was handled wasn't correct. And he still, he would still say that. So we had gone to talk to one of the ministers about it after the, you know, after the whole ordeal and just to say, you know, this was very disrespectful and we were lied to. And then when I specifically was lied to and then when we called that pastor out on his lie, he didn't apologize to me, he apologized to my husband as, you know, the one who presided over me and that was I just remember being in that meeting and just, like, my body felt cold all of a sudden. Like, I just felt so small and insignificant and cold and hungry in a way that wasn't like a sandwich could have satisfied it. Like, hungry in a desperate kind of a way. And we left that church and we had gone to so many churches in that town that we were like, well, we can't, we don't find a home, but there's so many people like us, you know, so many people who want to have a space to live. Can't we live, you know, I think your audience is very Christian, correct?

Mm-hmm, yes.

So they'll understand it. You know, sometimes I talk to podcasts and, you know, they're like a more secular audience, but I think like most Christians understand, like have this idea that like if we agree on, you know, what constitutes salvation, right, everything else we can just like It's not a salvation issue, as you know, I hear, we used to say all the time, like, oh well, we can agree, we can disagree, but it's not a salvation issue. So we had this idea, this really hopeful idea that we could build a place that would be beautiful and inclusive and just bring people together, and what we built was the opposite of that. What we built was a place fraught with the tensions and the frustrations that we had found everywhere else. I mean, there were difficult personalities personalities. Those are described in the book. And, but ultimately it fell apart because we disagreed on vision, and that vision was who could control and who could have a voice. And again, men were having control and men were having a voice while, you know, me and— there's another friend in there who— we were just closed out. And again, and then when that whole enterprise fell apart, Again, we just felt so lost and it felt impossible. And I think what felt impossible about it was it's an issue of power, you know, who has a power and who has a voice. And I had believed for so long that if I just trusted people that they would listen to me whether or not I was a woman. And that has never turned out to be the case. So there was a lot of those mitigating factors. You know, of course, I grew up evangelical. I've had a lot of other stories and situations that I also put in the book, but I think those were those adult experiences of coming out and trying to create a place for faith, but then finding that my voice was constantly demeaned and devalued. Were some of those mitigating factors that made this deeply personal.

Well, and I think, you know, a lot of that's pretty common among a lot of churches, unfortunately, and a lot of evangelicalism. And it came home to me, for all the things that I think there's not a perfect church, for one thing, I'm a part of a denomination called the Church of the Nazarene, which is, you know, I find myself, you know, as a minister in it having disagreements and things that I agree with and things that I struggle with, but we try to work it out. But one thing that I'm grateful for is we've always ordained women as preachers from the beginning, and I kind of had forgotten because I've been around it so often. I'd forgotten that was an issue in some places, and it came home to me about, I don't know, probably 6 or 7 years ago. And I was leading music for a camp out of state somewhere, and I won't give details as to where it was, but I remember that in the afternoon there was a lot of teenagers that were there, and they were doing some really great work in neighborhoods, and they met at lunchtime. And a lady from the church who worked with the teens was giving a devotional during the lunchtime And she just did an amazing job. Like, I kind of thought she was even better than, like, the speaker they hired for the week, you know. And what I had not noticed was all of the men except for me, all the adult men anyway, had left the room when she started speaking. And I went up to her afterwards and I told her, I said, my goodness, that was wonderful. And she was, like, mortified. She said, oh my goodness, I didn't realize you were in here. I'm not allowed allowed to teach men, you know, type thing. And I was like, what? Like, really? Um, and I just kind of tried to encourage her. I said, well, you, you really did a great job. Like, you spoke to me, you know, it was good. I just wanted to encourage you. And, and she actually ended up being quite embarrassed that I was in the room because of, uh, I guess the atmosphere of where she had been. And so, so it really is like this very real, um, issue that, that I— it was sort of my first experience, I guess, as a man realizing like, wow, this, this really goes on, you know. And I, you know, again, the privilege that I've had as a man, I just didn't even see it and didn't realize it.

I mean, I talked about this in The Church of the Air, where so many women who are part of these denominations, and even not, you know, even if there are denominations that ordain women, it's still like, I think overall less than 1% of head pastors are women. You know, so it's like even in, even in, you know, denominations that ordain women, spiritual leaders still tend to be men. And men might not notice, but women notice. Women really, really notice, and they feel that, and they feel that lack of a voice, and it becomes an issue. I remember being a teen and going to Wooddale Church, and I talked about that in the section on megachurches, which I call den of thieves. Mm-hmm.

Sure.

And I remember, you know, because we were talking earlier about the comedy, like speaking and public speaking and debating, and I've always loved it. And, you know, as somebody who's always passionate about her faith and loves public speaking, I remember being a teen thinking, what if I just became a pastor? You know, wouldn't that be great? I could do all the things that I feel gifted in and, you know, God's given me all these gifts. This is how I'm gonna— this is how I should use them. But I was going to a church where, you know, as beautiful as it is and as powerful as Wooddale Church is at the time, I'm not sure what they think now, but I'm pretty sure they're still not believing in ordaining women or giving women that kind of headship over churches. And I remember writing this just like really, you know, this really heartfelt note to the pastor at the time. And since I volunteered so much, I could like sneak it into his mailbox. Uh, and but it was basically like, please tell me why God gave me all these gifts but I can't use them for him, you know? And I never, I never got an answer. I remember even writing in the letter like, even if you don't want to talk to me about this personally, could you just like do a sermon series on it so I can understand? And like nothing. And this is something I talk about in the book too, how silences can be just as oppressive as shouts, you know. And I still remember that, you know, that like real oppressive silence that like even my heartfelt plea, "Help me understand why," was completely ignored.

Yeah, we're just not gonna talk about it.

Yeah, we're not.

Yeah, and which is, which is its own statement —which is its own statement.

Yeah, I talk a lot about that in the book. The silences are statements. Who we ignore are statements. Whose voices we elevate is a statement. And, you know, if you don't notice, the person who is being silenced notices. You know, they feel that deeply in their core, which I think is something we should always think about.

Well, and, you know, everybody's story, at least I think, should be taken as a sacred journey. Nobody else can walk that story. And so it's going to look a little bit different for each person, and everybody is going to see things, I think, from a different perspective in some ways. And one thing that I, that I wanted to talk a little bit about— my goodness, we're just rushing through our time so fast here. I want to make sure we get some good highlights about the book. You're doing a wonderful job sharing for us. But one thing that you said in the book, and this is sort of in, in the wake I think of the 2016 election, which partly because of disagreements, it ended up you leaving both your church and then your marriage ending. There were some things that you were just no longer able to compromise with. You really felt like in your spirit, it was going to be a compromise for even your spiritual health to continue going on in some of these ways.. So you found yourself just unable to deal with some of the compromises that you had to make, you felt like, and you were unable to keep worshipping at this church that ignored things like violent white supremacy. And you just really— it's kind of heart-wrenching when I read about the things on the pages. But one thing that you wrote that I really would love for you to talk about a little bit is you you wrote, the story of who leaves the church is just as important as the stories of who stays. And I wonder if you could just talk a little bit about sort of even that, that sentence. It was just so good. The story of who leaves, who leaves the church is just as important as the story of who stays.

Well, I, I think that, um, churches often have this the churches I have gone to, and I've gone to quite a few, but I have not gone to every church. So I know, again, like, stories are different and different churches try to do different things. But I have often seen, you know, in churches, especially as church decline— as church attendance is declining, you know, this idea of like, who do we get in? And who do we get into this church? And, you 'Who's here?' and 'Who do we talk to?' and 'How do we talk to them?' But that focuses on the people who are already there, right? Or the people who are already allowed— who are allow— already feel safe within those doors and feel safe within those walls. So those are the stories that get privileged. Those are the stories that get told. You know, those are the people who get ministered to but again, your audience is Christian, so I can like start waving out the Jesusisms. But Jesus wasn't about who was inside the walls, you know, he was about who's being left out. And I think that the real story of the church is the story of the loss that people feel, the silences that are happening, you know. Every time I write a story about that references my faith, that references pain, that references any sort of isolation. And I, I'm still a person who goes to church. I'm still a person of deep faith, you know. But when I write these stories, I have so many people coming up to me after, you know, like on social media or in my email or even, you know, in person saying, that's why I can't go to church anymore because I don't feel safe. I don't feel safe there. I don't feel represented because I don't feel like my body belongs there. You know, and these are, you know, people who are trans, people who are queer, people of color. Like, these are often the marginalized in the world who are outside of the walls of faith, who are not being reached out to in a way that is real and is relevant and safe. Faith and safe, because the whole rhetoric of like, hate the sin, love the sinner, that's not safe, you know. And so you can have a rhetoric that seems fine to you but, uh, is deeply, deeply dangerous, um, to, to the marginalized who you're trying to reach out to. And I will say, when I say dangerous, I, I actually mean bodily harm, you know, like there's so many things that have been done to people in the name of faith that have hurt them and that have, you know, caused such deep, deep harm that I think that's something that we need to think about more, you know, more than drums in a church, more than a pastor who has tattoos and wears flannel and like drinks craft beer and isn't he so cool, you know, you're like, okay, but still a white man. And that might fool some people, but like, who's it fooling and who is it not fooling? And we need to think about the people who are not there, who are not in the room.

Yeah, well, and I agree with you, and I so appreciated that you said that, and I think that's maybe one reason that it resonated with me. And we have this terrible habit sometimes of almost being like, you know, well, it doesn't bother me, so I guess it doesn't bother anybody else. Yeah, yeah. And one of the hardest things, you know, and traditionally, you know, throughout church history, there are issues like, you know, LGBT issues and things that the church just hasn't dealt with because it's just kind of, you know, made a flat statement about it. This is what the Bible says, so we say this. And so in some ways we're entering new territory that in many ways I think a lot of churches haven't been forced to deal with before.. And yet I can remember over the years, and especially someone who's very close to me who came out, I think I was maybe one of the first people that they came out to. And it seems like every church I've been in, I've always had, you know, whether it be teens in the youth group or somebody that, you know, has just needed to confide, and often with trembling and a lot of fear, you know, and feeling like like, well, some of them even saying, you know, the last time I told somebody about this at the church, they said don't come back until you're fixed, basically. Yeah, yeah. And it's, it's always been so important for me to— like you said, we have to at least, you know, we have to first at least let that person know they're safe and they're loved, you know. I feel like there's a lot of issues that initially churches may, may not even have a stance that is helpful to them. But I think there's a difference if we can at least begin the conversation and say, hey, let's, let's walk through this together and work it out together, because the most important thing for us here is how do we become disciples together, you know. And we're, we're all kind of walking in new territory. And this one person in particular that I that I always think of, and I don't want to give his identity away because I'm not sure he'd want to yet, but he, he always reminds me, he said, don't make the assumption that, that these people who you think are not in your congregation are not there, because they are. You may not know they are, but they are. And the same person told me over a meal one day, he said, you know, I just don't feel like I have a home in this world, and it's partially because I grew up in the church I want to be a part. And, you know, just tearfully saying, I don't feel like they want me. Yeah. You know, and it just breaks my heart. And I want to find a way, you know, so often partially what I so appreciate about your writing is I can feel your heart coming through and beating for people who have felt marginalized and have felt like they don't have a place anymore. And churches can often say, well, we love you, we just don't love what you do. Like you just said a few moments ago, love the sin, hate the sinner, but the effect of it, what they're hearing is, we don't really love you.

Yeah, no, that's the real rhetoric. I also think churches need to understand that on so many of these conversations, we've already had them. You know, like they've already happened. There are so many like radical feminist theologians, queer theologians who've had these incredible, amazing conversations about what, you know, what does the Bible actually say? One of the most reductive things that I find very frustrating is when people are like, "Well, just look at what the Bible says. Just look at what the Bible says." You know, and you and I both know that two different people can read the Bible and walk away with two completely different answers. You know, in my church that I started, that was often, you know, where I would say, "Okay, what are we going to do about this?" issue? What are we gonna do about this issue? And people would be like, oh, we'll just look at what the Bible says. And it would— I would like— it would blow my mind because I'd be like, well, I think the Bible says this, and I know you think this, so we need to figure it out. But they just would just be like, well, we gotta look at the scripture. And yes, you have to look at the scripture, but you also have to account for what the scripture doesn't say. And you know, it's, it's this beautiful work that has space. And I think we need to let the scripture give space and give openness. But churches, churches need to understand that institutionally, these conversations have happened and have already happened, and they're coming to it late. You know, so I think one of the, one of the most hopeful things about my journey was getting outside of the religion that I had grown up with and looking at all the women and all the queer theologians who'd had these conversations and come to some conclusions that were freeing in a way that I think the gospel ought to be freeing. And one of my— she's not in the book, but one of my favorite people in the world is my best friend Anna, who I met met in college, and she is now a PhD Hebrew scholar. And every time I like, I love to talk to her because I'll be like, "Well, what about this thing?" And she'll just be like, "Okay, here's like all the people who disagree and here's some feminist theologians." And it just constantly blows my mind to realize that for, you know, for decades and decades, there have been people with the same the same ideas that I have, that you're, you know, that queer people in churches are struggling with, that women in churches are struggling with. And there's answers, but those answers aren't being represented in the mainstream of church ideology because who has the power and who has the voice in mainstream church ideology are not women, are not people of color. So I think I mean, I think yes, we do need to like walk in journey, but I think we also need to understand that the journey's been journeyed. So maybe, maybe, maybe sometimes leaders need to stop and go do some extra learning on like what's out there. I'm reading this incredible book right now for the second book called When Mama Speaks: The Bible and Motherhood from a Woman's A Feminist Perspective by Stephanie Buchanan Crowder. And it's, you know, it's specifically for Black women and Black mothers in the church who feel, you know, doubly marginalized. And just like seeing the way she approaches the Bible is so freeing and so powerful. I wish I had heard that when I was a little 9-year-old girl. Girl going to a Baptist church in Texas. You know, I think it would have made my relationships, well, with everybody a lot more healthy, but especially with Faith. So I think part of the understanding— and I know I'm babbling— but like, it is opening up our, our understanding of this, the disciple journey or whatever, to know that there are people who have already done it and they've been doing it for years. And I remember sitting in a room full of monks listening to a talk about Dorothy Day. Hmm, yeah. You know, single mom, and that's who I had just become, but who was just this radical person with a heart for faith. And, you know, I was like, she was, you know, she was already there and I never even knew about her until I was like 35 sitting in a room full of monks, you know. Why didn't somebody tell me about her before? So again, whose stories are privileged, I think, is really important.

And I think you, when you even asking that question, why didn't I ever hear about these things before? And I think the answer is, well, we just didn't know, you know? Well, that's a lot of it. But why didn't we know? Exactly, exactly. And that's an excellent point you're making. There's a sense in which, you know, my father, who actually just retired retired as a pastor for, I think it was 42 years. You know, we grow up like, I didn't know what Advent was. I didn't know what, you know, any of the church seasons were. And he said to me one day, you know, in kind of a conversation, why didn't, you know, Dad, why didn't we do this? He's like, I'd never heard of it. You know, like I never even knew. And so it's interesting that things, and I think you make a great point, the people whose voices are heard are the ones ones that we know and the ones that we hear. And there is a vast amount— there's absolutely no excuse in, in the day and age that we live in, you know, especially with the internet, to not be able to find good sources. And yet we still tend to go back, you know, some— somehow Breitbart still exists, you know, in the midst, you know.

Yeah, we got to look at our— I mean, we got to look at our seminaries. What are they teaching? Who are they teaching? You know, when, when pastors get up and preach, and if the only other theologian they're quoting is John Piper. That's white supremacy. Like, that's it. This is patriarchy. It's white supremacy, and it's not right, and it's got to stop.

Well, well, you, you write about some really— I mean, you're a wonderful writer, by the way, and, and I really enjoyed the journey that you allowed us to listen in on as we read it. You know, we kind of— we're We're taking this journey with you in Godland, and there are just places that I think it's good and healthy for us to go down. And you ask some excellent questions, especially in some of your journeys, and I wish I could remember all of them off the top of my head, but there's one, I think it was with maybe a group in a Baptist church, and the pastor's wife was not real happy with some of the journalistic questions you were asking. Yes, yes. But there's some really rich stories in the book, and you force us to ask some uncomfortable questions, and I really appreciate that. And so unfortunately, we're about at the end of the time that I'm able to offer today, and I want to make sure before we end our conversation today, is there something that is burning on your heart that you really wanted to make sure that we covered today that we haven't yet had a chance to get to before I tell people about your website and where they can read the book and when it releases and things like that?

I mean, I hope that people understand that my book has hope in it, that it's not just like this constant teardown and everything is horrible, that there is hope. And I think the last chapter ends on hope, that, you know, I think if people have— hear this conversation, I want them to know that like, I found a place. It's not a perfect church, but I did find a church, and I have this beautiful pastor who's just so amazing. Her name's Pastor Ritva Williams, and it's St. Stephen's Lutheran Church in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. And they, you know, they're not perfect. You know, like you said, you're not part of a perfect congregation. No congregation is perfect, but there's space there, there's love there, and And I think that there are so many churches across America that do have space and do have love and radical love and believe in radical justice. And I know they're there and I know they're out there. And what I desire more than anything is that these are the voices that we begin to elevate, you know, and that these are the people who start taking over the national and cultural conversations that we are having about faith, because, you know, it's, it's very complicated, but there, there is hope and there is beauty out there. And I think there's nothing better than finding a place where you feel like your soul belongs. And I've found that, and I know a lot of the people, you know, who I've talked to in the book have also found that.. And there's just some really beautiful, amazing justice happening in America, you know, in, in the name of faith. And I just don't want that to get lost. And, you know, we do have to talk about despair and brokenness, but, but, you know, like Pastor Rick Lee James says in the book, you know, we're Christians, we believe in death and resurrection, so things die die, but there's also resurrection. So I hope that, um, that's the note that we always end on.

Amen. Amen. I appreciate that hope. And, um, and I appreciate the hope. It does shine through. And I, I think it was— I think it was Martin Luther who— by the way, I have truckloads of problems. Oh, me too. But, but I— but at the same time, there's, there's a few times— I think it was him that said the church is a whore, but she is our mother. And there's— yeah, he didn't ever mince words with anything he said. But I'm so glad that you did find a congregation that you do feel like is a family to you, and that is bringing you nourishment, and is allowing you to have, you know, a real place that you've been maybe longing for and weren't able to find in some other places. And that is a very hopeful thing to me. And not every church has to look the same way. There is such a a vast diversity in the body of Christ, and I appreciate the conversations that you're helping us to have. And I also want to say too, just on another note, as a person who myself has been through a divorce and being in the church at the same time and serving in ministry, I'm sorry for what you went through. I know what effect that takes on the heart, and I just wanted to say how sorry I am, but I'm glad that you are finding hope, you know, in the midst of those things, and that's not the end of your story. So mostly, I guess, I just wanted to express appreciation to you today and the courage it takes you to be able to tell your story, and I hope you'll continue to tell it. So let me tell people quickly before our time is done, because I know this work is going to resonate with any readers who are interested in understanding like American landscapes and where white evangelical Christianity dominates both in politics and culture. So the name of the book is Godland: A Story of Faith, Loss, and Renewal in Middle America. And Liz's site is lizlenz.com, and I want to spell that because it's, it's L-Y-Z-L-E-N-Z. So it's an L-Y-Z instead of L-I-Z as you might expect it to be. And the book, if I'm not mistaken, it releases on August 1st, 2019. Okay, so if you're interested in hearing more, and I know you are after hearing Liz today, I want you to go to Amazon or wherever you buy books from, and you can do a pre-order, I assume, right now, or you can just set it—

IndieBound, Amazon, Barnes Noble, or your local bookstore.

We got books, they got them out there, so there's plenty of places to buy them for sure. For sure. But I think it's a fascinating read and it's well-researched, and I appreciate the way that you've put yourself out there to tell this story. And so, as I say to my guests every week, Liz Lenz, thank you for being one of the Voices in My Head this week.

Thank you so much for having me.

Thank you for joining me here this week on Voices in My Head. I hope you'll visit me on my website at rickleejames.com where you can find out more about me, get my music on vinyl and CD, follow my blog, and even schedule me for a concert or a speaking engagement. Better yet, even a book signing in your neighborhood. You can find all that and more at rickleejames.com. Also, it would mean a great deal to me if you could write a review of this podcast on iTunes. The more positive reviews that we receive, the more visible this podcast will be online. And now for the benediction: May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. God bless you, and thank you for listening to Voices in My Head.