I caught an article in the Post-Gazette about the impending relocation of a local non-traditional faith community — the Hot Metal Bridge Faith Community. It seems someone sold the Goodwill Building so the Hot Metal folks are in search of a worship space.
The Hot Metal Community is more street than avenue. Founded by two kind of irreverant preachers, the group ministers to the poor and attracts individuals who don't fit in with mainstream visions of Christianity.
I had heard of this community and thought it was kind of cool to take a Christian message to the streets and use non-traditional means to help people access God. I mistakenly assumed the church had a bit of a progressive bent. Until I read this passage in the article:
Hot Metal is theologically conservative but encourages open discussion of difficult issues. At Bible Fight Club, held in the basement of a tattoo parlor, participants must argue for their own interpretation of a divisive biblical issue.
“We try to foster dialogue. We work at how we can hold opposing views on things like homosexuality but still love each other and claim Jesus as Lord,” Rev. Eddings said.
THINGS like homosexuality? Huh. Well, I guess if they get a chance to talk it out in Bible Fight Club then a little thing like oppressing an entire group of human beings based on an inherent part of their identity isn't anything to be worried about. After all, they feed the hungry. I wonder if there is a Christian equivalent to a carbon footprint — 15 meals offsets one gut punch to a homosexual?
You know what I think? The Hot Metal Faith Community is a tricked out version of Bishop Duncan's Episcopal Church — give Peter Akinola some tattoos and a few piercings and he'd be right at home. Actually, a better analogy might be the satire “Saved” which punctured the whole Christian teen-culture scene.
I guess you can't judge a gay-ally by their tattoos.