all i have to do is look in the mirror…

Another excerpt from my conversations with Brian, this time regarding how we actually generate the changes that this “new kind of Christianity” talks about.

I think you’ve actually answered the question as well as it can be answered – I think the problem begins and ends with us. It is my responsibility to help the poor, to see the needs around me, and to act on them. On the other hand, it’s the responsibility of people who don’t view all people with equal esteem in the sight of God to change their way of thinking. The hidden point I think we don’t often realize is that in our state of becoming, we are told that we have “one who walks alongside” – a guide, counselor, etc. I think all too often we feel like change is *all* about us, when I think in some measure change is about releasing ourselves to God. I think when we give up the idea that our career is “important” and that our popularity is “important” and that our ________ is “important” – when we release those things, our actions no longer because about driving the career, popularity, and ________ – rather our actions become available to be used by God. Instead, we (and specifically I) all too often adopt the attitude that change is all about my force of will… “I will be more loving. I will be more loving. I WILL be more loving. I WILL BE MORE LOVING…” It doesn’t work very well.

Exactly *how* that process occurs in our lives, and how the Spirit works to effect those changes I really think varies from person to person. I know in my own life I could probably use a lot more prayer asking for change, and reflection daily on what opportunities I passed by, along with what I can do tomorrow.

I don’t think we’ll ever be comfortable “out of our comfort zones”, by definition, but I think, much as you brought up on Monday a couple of weeks ago, that we are never called to be comfortable. I think in many ways for us today, the discomfort we’re called to in many ways may be more intellectual and social than physical – it is highly unlikely that we will ever be “poor”, or unable to put food on the table, or probably even buy whatever we want. It *is* highly likely that we will be uncomfortable when we interact with people of different social status, or give up our time, energy, and effort to go the extra mile and help people even within our own social groups.

I think the final point on service is that we need to be very careful when we “rank” what problems we need to solve. While I certainly believe that Jesus was about elevating the lowest and least, I think there are so many people in all walks of life and all socioeconomic statuses that fit that definition. I believe the “lowest and least” is just as much the 17 year old princess suffering from anorexia as it is the 60 year old Vietnam vet who’s living on the street – I believe each of them needs our help, and while it’s very sexy to focus on the second one, it doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t focus on the first either. Taken farther, I am certain that there are many “lowest and least” people within our own groups, and perhaps even within our own circles of friends – they are no less worthy or deserving of our help – we just assume that because they’re close to us and appear to be all put together that everything is ok.

The answer, though, I think is simple. If I want to look at the problem with Christianity in the world, all I have to do is look in the mirror. The hope, I think, is that Jesus himself encourages us to “be made new” – a process, I think. I’m certainly not to the state of “being”, but I’m a lot farther along the way to becoming than I was 5 years ago, or even 5 months ago. My hope is that I will be able to say the same 5 months and 5 years from now.

the “buy-in”

Brian and I have been in an email dialog over the past couple of days, and I thought I would put a few thoughts from it here. This particular line of thought is in the middle of a larger discussion about the “trendiness” of churches. More, perhaps, to come.

I think perhaps the most disturbing trend to me in our current church context is our “marketing buy-in”. In many ways, we feel like we need to “market” church. If it’s not “cool” people won’t buy it. In contrast to this, I think there are two ways to sell a product – one is to make it cool, the other is to make it useful. People don’t buy motor-oil because it’s cool. They buy it because it keeps their engine from disintegrating. We’ve somehow developed the idea that people will only buy our message if it’s cool, which sort-of implies that our message isn’t all that useful. I suggest that the opposite is true. I think we need to make our message and church relevant instead of trendy, useful instead of cool. I think ultimately at the core the message of Christ is one that is practical and relevant – it’s just recognizing that instead of promoting a “feel-good” type of Gospel. I think one of the core ideas of the emergent philosophy that brings this home is the idea that the abundant life is about *now* – that Jesus didn’t just die so we could go to heaven, but that so we could have a lasting, significant life here in the present. I think that’s a message that’s resonant with many people, but that we’ve instead tried to promote that religion is “cool’ – I think the unfortunate truth is that all too often it isn’t cool, nor was it ever intended to be. The root of this, perhaps, is the mid-1900’s approach of incorporating (not literally) churches. We had groups of people who looked at church structure and said “we could make this into a corporate model, and it would work really well……..” which it did in some sense, but I think there are a lot of problems with that, not the least of which is that we’ve made our churches think like corporations, where the bottom line is what really matters.

an open letter to emergent Christians

For a few years, I have followed and hopefully participated in what has become known as the Emergent Conversation – if not at a high level at least with those around me. I feel there are many perspectives and good things the dialog brings out, and that the questions it raises are not only important, but essential to the future of how Christianity will look. I believe holistic and narrative approaches to scripture are more full and complete than overly analytical ones, and that our obligation for social involvement extends beyond homosexual marriage and abortion. I believe the face of ministry and church will change as we enter into a new age that we don’t truly understand yet, and that it won’t involve changes in methodology and doctrine as much as changes in attitude and perspective. I believe those of us who are experiencing this transition are, at best, bi-lingual, and that in many ways we will never be “native speakers” of the true underlying language of whatever Christianity will become, even as we struggle now to learn what that new language sounds like.

In some circles, “Emergent” has become a by word for trendy, cool, liberating, artsy, non-judgmental, non-traditional and intellectual, and often I encounter people who call themselves “Emergent” primarily because they want to be in, or want to create a place, or want simply to be those things – which they feel they can’t be in a traditional church environment. This is an open letter to these people: those who are more interested in being a “cool Christian” or a “trendy Christian” or a “non-traditional Christian” than they are in being a follower of Christ; those who think Emergent Christianity is about chunking one set of doctrine and dogma for another, without really understanding either one; those who feel like after reading a couple of books or listening to a couple of people talk, their newfound enlightenment somehow means they’re better than everyone else, or at least about 30 years ahead of everyone else, and suddenly treat other perspectives as inferior – if you fit or identify with any of those, this letter is for you, and for me, as I am all too often guilty of everything I’ll mention.

  1. Words don’t make us Emergent. They don’t make us cool. They might make us trendy, but trendy doesn’t get us very far. At conferences and churches I visit, I increasingly tend to run into a group of people who feel like the only way they can be emergent is to use a buzzword in every sentence. While they might explain the Emerging Church by saying, “It’s not a new denomination or another set of Christian lingo”, they immediately then launch into an explanation that includes phrases like “community”, “Christian Spirituality”, and “not a denomination or non-denomination” in the next sentence – effectively doing exactly what they’ve said they won’t do, trading one set of Christian lingo for another, less well known set of Christian lingo that isn’t immediately recognized as such. At times, I feel like I’m listening to someone who stuffed a bunch of words he read into a shotgun and then pointed it at the audience and pulled the trigger – “emergent”, “missional”, “holistic”, “social justice”, “cell-church”, ”community-oriented”, “spiritual journey” – peppering us with words that he himself doesn’t seem to understand.I contrast this to ministers, speakers, and authors who are on the cutting edge and practicing this new language. Their “Emergent” vocabulary is not word based, but idea based. At a conference in 2004 where he spoke for almost 5 hours, I believe Brian McLaren used the word “Emergent” less than 5 times. Instead of trying to communicate with buzzwords, the leaders of the movement communicate their ideas through pictures, stories, and examples. The more “emergent” people I encounter, the more I’m convinced that the quickest way to tell the real article from the well intentioned but misguided newcomer is to determine how much esoteric buzzword vocabulary they use, especially if and when they use it incorrectly.The “Emerging Conversation” is not about using different, new, and cool or trendy words, nor, really, is it about different, new, and cool or trendy ideas. It is about a different way of taking not just Scripture, but the world as a whole.
  2. Talking is good; doing is better. Emergent Christianity, at its core, is not a theoretical exercise – it is extremely practical and action oriented. One group of people that tends to be attracted to the Emergent cause, however, is intellectuals who often are more interested in talking about things than in actually doing them. We cannot be content with simply talking about how much better this “new kind of Christianity” is, unless we also show how this “new kind of Christianity” works in the real world. We cannot say that it’s good without showing that it’s good, and expect to have any credibility outside our own circle.Often, I feel like our groups have become or are becoming associations of people who basically think the same thing and discuss it ad nauseam, instead of becoming what we talk about being – a group which not only welcomes outsiders but seeks and invites them; a group that not only talks about how justice and charity matter, but practices that in our own lives; a group that not only values the struggle of scripture, but embraces the struggle of holy living. As we enter further into the discovery of what it means to be a Christian in this new age, our viewpoints will only be relevant if they work, and they will only work if we go beyond conversation to action.
  3. One of the most disturbing tendencies I’ve seen is our move to isolate ourselves and talk about how everyone else “doesn’t get it”. I think our critics are right when they paint us as often-times being an intellectually snobby movement – I think we all too often adopt the attitude that somehow other groups just don’t quite have the same level of truth that we do, and that we’re somehow more enlightened than they are.I grew up in a denomination that started as a unity movement – proclaiming that we were “Christians only, but not the only Christians” – welcoming everyone to the table, and declaring that we would be people who followed Scripture and Scripture alone. It didn’t take very long, however, before that unity movement turned into a movement most well known for its exclusivity and dogmatic defense of its doctrine – to the extent that we were fairly certain that no one else would be in heaven, and made sure they knew about it.My hope is that this new movement does not fall into the same pattern. It is much easier to throw rocks at glass houses than it is to stand inside and attempt to remodel. It’s convenient to run out of the house and talk about how badly designed it was, without realizing that we’re now standing in a pouring rain storm without any shelter of our own, or sitting in a small shack we’ve constructed from various construction materials we’ve found lying around.In my own heritage, there is a great amount of soul searching now, as we realize more and more that setting ourselves up in opposition to others is harmful to everyone. There is great difficulty now, however, in trying to find a voice and purpose that is positive and relevant, instead of negative and attacking. As the Emergent movement grows, my prayer is that we will not be people who isolate ourselves and talk about how we have it “right” – but that many of us will continue to exist within the glass houses we’ve inherited, hoping to make a positive change, instead of running outside and breaking windows.
  4. The problem with Christianity is not that it isn’t cool. We don’t need to make it more attractive, or more palatable. We don’t need better marketing or better advertising. We simply need to live out the teachings of Jesus.As I look at churches in general – not just within the “Emerging church” movement – for years we have been trying to make Christianity cooler, more trendy, less… like church. We’ve tried to market Christianity, with cool commercials, flyers, and advertisements, thinking somehow that will change people’s perceptions. We feel like if we create a place where people with tattoos are welcome, and where body piercing is totally cool, somehow that will make more people want to follow Christ.At the same time, we often ignore the most important message we send – the testimony of our lives. The divorce rate among Christians is higher than it is among non-Christians – and we try to protect “the sanctity of marriage” by writing laws against homosexual unions? Six million children a year die from malnutrition, yet we claim to be “pro-life” because we picket abortion clinics? We talk about how “our church is accepting of ________” (fill in the blank with your chosen group), while refusing to admit that we ourselves are greedy, untruthful, lusting, prideful and in general sinful people – and even when we do admit it, we seldom attempt to take action in our own lives, allowing God to transform us more into the image of Christ.People aren’t fooled by clever advertising – they will believe in the message of Jesus when they see it make a difference not only in the world, but in the lives of people who claim to be Christians. There is no amount of coolness or trendiness or hype that will fool the next generation, already saturated with media and marketing. They are interested not in a good sales pitch, but in good news – news that I believe we have, but often don’t listen to in our own lives.

The real beauty in the picture of a conversation is that it continues. It doesn’t claim to be the final word, or the ultimate embodiment. As we continue to learn and grow and explore, it is essential that we listen to the noble principles of love and understanding instead of becoming frustrated and angry. It’s important that we are truly inclusive – not just inclusive in name only; and it is imperative that we not become an intellectually snobby movement that looks down its nose at others, instead of seeking to engage and learn from everyone. Finally, it is vital that we don’t become trendy for the sake of being cool, but rather become Christ-like, and allow the Good News of Jesus to continually transform our lives.

i’d have to become a Christian in a new way…

a couple of thoughts that jumped out at me this weekend, from “A New Kind of Christian”

At the time, I could see only two alternatives: 1) continue preaching and promoting a version of Christianity that I had deepening reservations about or 2) leave Christian ministry and perhaps the Christian path altogether. There was a third alternative that I hadn’t yet considered: Learn to be a Christian in a new way.

  1. I drive my car and listen to the Christian radio station, something my wife always tells me I should stop doing (“because it only gets you upset”). There I hear preacher after preacher be so absolutely sure of his bombproof answers and his foolproof biblical interpretations (in spite of the fact that Preacher A at 9:30 usually contradicts Preacher B at 10:00, and so on throughout the day), his five easy steps (alliterated around the letter P), his crisis of the month (toward which you should give a “love gift … if the Lord so leads”). And the more sure he seems, the less I find myself wanting to be a Christian, because on this side of the microphone, antennas, and speaker, life isn’t that simple, answers aren’t that clear, and nothing is that sure. (Paradoxically, at that moment I might consider sending him some money, hoping that by investing in his simpler vision of the world, I myself will be able to buy into it more. But eventually I will stop throwing good money after bad.)
  2. I preach sermons that earn the approving nods of the lifelong churchgoers, because they repeat the expected vocabulary and formulations, words that generally convey little actual meaning after hearing them fifty-two times a year, year after year, but work like fingers, massaging the weary souls of earnest people. Meanwhile, as the initiated relax under this massage of familiar words, as they emit an almost audible “ahh” to hear their cherished vocabulary again, these very massaging messages leave the uninitiated furrowing their brows, shaking their heads, and shifting in their seats. They do this sometimes because they don’t understand but even more when they do understand – because the very formulations that sound so good and familiar to the “saved” sound downright weird or even wicked to the “seekers” and the skeptics. These people come to me and ask questions, and I give my best answers, my best defenses, and by the time they leave my office, I have convinced myself that their questions are better than my answers.
  3. I do the reverse: I preach sermons that turn the lights on for spiritual seekers, but earn me critical letters and phone calls from the “veterans” of the church often because the expected fingers didn’t reach through my message to massage them as expected.
  4. I have counseling sessions in my office, year after year, during which many wonderful people, people whom I love, people who have a lot of Bible knowledge, Christan background, theological astuteness, and “pew time,” prove to have the same problems, make the same mistakes, harbor the same doubts (though more often unexpressed), indulge in the same vices, and lack the same “spark” that unchurched people often do, the only major differences being that a) the church people tend to use more religious language to define their problems, b) their problems are further complicated by guilt for having these problems in the first place, and c) these religious people nevertheless consider themselves superior to their non-religious counterparts. (I read recently that divorce rates among evangelical Christians – supposed guardians of traditional family values – are actually higher than those in culture at large. What?) After these counseling sessions, I am left troubled, wondering, “Shouldn’t the Gospel of Jesus make a bigger impact than this? And does pew time have to result in spiritual pride and inauthenticity?”
  5. I realize that as people come into our church, everybody needs conversion. The not yet committed Christians need to be converted to a vibrant twenty-first century faith, and the already committed twentieth-century (and nineteenth-century) Christians need the same, myself included.
  6. I realize, as I read and reread the Bible, that many passages don’t fit any of the theological systems I have inherited or adapted. Sure, they can be squeezed in, but after a while my theology looks like a high school class trip’s luggage – shoestrings hanging out here, zippers splitting apart there, latches snapping, clothes pouring out on the floor like a thrift store horn of plenty. My old systems – whether the Dispensationalism of my childhood, the Calvinism of my adolescence, the “charasmaticism” of my early adulthood, or even my more mature, mainstream “evangelicalism” – cant seem to hold all the data in the Bible, not to mention the data of my own experience, at least not gracefully.
  7. I read what other people who are having similar experiences are saying, including people writing outside the religious context – like this from Peter Senge – “In any case, our Industrial Age management, our Industrial Age organization, our Industrial Age way of living will not continue. The Industrial Age is not sustainable. It’s not sustainable in ecological terms, and it’s not sustainable in human terms. It will change. The only question is how. Once we get out of our machine mind-set, we may discover new aptitudes for growth and change. Until then, change won’t come easily.” As I read, I feel that “industrial age faith” faces the same fate.
  8. I pick up most religious books, like the one you’re holding, and know from somewhere midway through page one what the entire book will say, and I read on anyway to find out that I was right. I wonder: Doesn’t the religious community see that the world is changing? Doesn’t it have anything fresh and incisive to say? Isn’t it even asking any new questions? Has it nothing to offer other than the stock formulas that it has been offering? Is there no Saint Francis or Soren Kierkegaard or C.S. Lewis in the house with some fresh ideas and energy? Has the “good news” been reduced to “good same-old same-old”?
  9. I meet people along the way who model for me, each in a different way, what a new kind of Christian might look like. They differ in many ways, but they generally agree that the old show is over, the modern jig is up, and it’s time for something radically new.

Of course, my data isn’t numbers. My data is experience – my experience as a committed Christian and my specific experiences as a pastor. Experiences like these:

You see, if we have a new world, we will need a new church. We won’t need a new religion per-se, but a new framework for our theology. Not a new Spirit, but a new spirituality. Not a new Christ, but a new Christian. Not a new denomination, but a new kind of church in every denomination.

I’d have to become a Christian in a new way…

if there were no eternal consciousness in a man

If there were no eternal consciousness in a man,
if at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment,
a power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential;
if an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything,
what would life be but despair?

Soren Kierkegaard

what is our perspective of scripture?

What is our perspective of Scripture?

Do we see it as a legal document – framed in such a way as to spell out reward and punishment – a sort of code, explaining how to escape eternal judgment?

Do we see it as a plan of salvation – a step by step process that gives us eternal life but immediate oppression?

Do we see it as a fable – an outdated fairy tale written by superstitious people oh so long ago who understood so little and made up stories to fill in the gaps?

Or do we see it as a story –
a story about God,
about humanity,
about us.

I believe the words of God are living,
active,
alive –
that this story which began as God spoke a world into existence continues today,
now.

I believe God’s words aren’t
a list of rules
or a contract
or an irrelevant tale,
but a story of love –
a story about a relationship
between a creative God
and his creation,
a story that is
exciting,
essential,
unfinished.

I believe in a God whose story is unfinished

In the conclusion of the account of his story of Jesus, John writes: “Jesus did many other things. If they were all written down, I suppose the whole world could not contain the books that would be written.”
John knew, I think , that each of us has a story, and that every believer in Christ could write their story about God’s impact in their lives. John essentially says, “This is my story, but everyone of us who knew Christ has a story,” and I believe that continues until today – enough so that John’s prophecy is true – the whole world could not contain the books that would be written about the unfinished story of God.

The narrative of the Bible is one which tells part of the story of God, working in the lives of plain, ordinary people who were called to do extraordinary things. But the real beauty of the story of God is that it continues to be written. While its final chapter is known and its outcome certain, each day we all participate in the story of God. We choose, in some sense, what role we will play in that story – whether a humble servant who God works through, or a proud rebel who God humbles – but each of us is a character.

I believe that God still writes stories, and that the stories he writes today are no less spectacular than the ones he wrote two thousand years ago. I believe he will continue to write, from beginning to end.

My hope and prayer is that these thoughts over the past week and a half or so have challenged you to think about your beliefs and your picture of God, and perhaps to set down some thoughts about why you believe what you do. Ultimately my prayer is that God’s story in your life is a constant work, that the image of God as author would be real and powerful, and that your story would be intertwined with the work of His hand.

I believe in a God who is relational

Our picture of God and preaching about God often has a lot to do with rules and regulations. “You can’t do this.” “That is wrong.” “Don’t do this.” Much of this is well intentioned, but I think sometimes misguided. Why? I believe that God is primarily relational.

When a child first starts to be able to make its own decisions, we give it rules. “Don’t touch the stove.” “Don’t go out into the street.” When the child grows up a bit, the rules change – “Don’t touch the stove if it’s on.” “Don’t go out in the street without looking both ways.” As the child grows and its understanding of the world expands, we are able to drop rules and instead communicate principles – “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Eventually, our interactions with our children are not founded on rules at all, but on relationships, and I have a feeling God works in exactly the same way.

The main picture we see of our relationship with God in the Bible – the most often used portrait – is that of a father caring for his children. God could have chosen any picture, I suppose. He could have chosen a King, making wise decisions ruling over his people. He could send down a revelation today comparing us to workers, working for an employer. He could have often compared us to slaves, serving a master – and each of these pictures are indeed used in the Bible to describe our relationship with God. But over and over again, the picture that dominates is that of Father and son.

“See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!” John writes. Paul says we “groan inwardly as we await eagerly for our adoptions as sons.”

As we listen to God, we see his character, and understand more and more what he wants us to be, and how he wants us to act. Eventually, we don’t do things or not do things because they’re “right” or “wrong” – but because we know they’re consistent or inconsistent with the character of God. We base our actions not on a set of rules made by men, but on a relationship with the eternal creator of the universe, who treats us as his children.

I believe in a God who calls me his son, and treats me like his child. I believe he has shown me, both through his life and his words, what is good. And what does the Lord require of me, but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with Him?

next: I believe in a God whose story is unfinished

I believe in a God who dwells among us

We usually think of God as a being who exists somewhere other than *here*. It’s hard for us to picture the idea of God living among humanity, taking human flesh and form. Theologically, we use terms like transcendent and imminent – the idea that God could be wholly both is difficult for anyone to grasp.

John writes that Jesus “became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son.”

God made his home among us. The hidden word picture is that Jesus came and pitched his tent along side ours, both of us temporary inhabitants of the world. Paul writes, “In Christ lives all the fullness of God in a human body.” The author of Hebrews says, “This High Priest [Jesus] of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.”

The idea that God would be content to simply deliver his message through prophets as he sat in the comfort of heaven is not consistent with the character painted in the Bible. Instead, God wanted – needed even – to experience his creation first hand and speak with them face to face, as one of us.

Paul, perhaps, puts it best: “Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.”

As shocking as the incarnation of Christ is, God goes even one step farther – sending the final part of the Trinity – His Spirit – not just to live among us, but to live in us. This Spirit of God is described as “one who walks alongside.” Paul describes it as our “deposit” or “guarantee” of an inheritance as his children.

I believe in a God who does not remain in a comfortable position in heaven, but who lives among and empathizes with his people. I believe that in the incarnation of Christ, God sets aside all privilege and becomes human in every way, so no creature could accuse God saying, “You don’t truly understand what I’m going through.” I believe God knows what it is to live a human life, not simply as a theoretical exercise, but because he did it.

next: I believe in a God who is relational

I believe in a God who loves his creation

If there’s one concept that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me without God, it’s love. Perhaps it gives us some sort of competitive advantage, but it seems to me it would be really hard to explain how the essence of love – selflessness – works and thrives in a survival of the fittest dominated world.

If you took a bible and took out everything about God related to love, you wouldn’t be left with much. “God is love,” John writes. John describes himself as “the one Jesus loved” – not, I think, because he felt more special than anyone else, but because in the eyes of Jesus, that is exactly how he felt – loved. He not only describes God as love, but defines love in terms of God – “we know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us.”

But aside from all of those references, the cornerstone of God’s relationship with humanity is summed up in what might be the most famous and important verse in the entire bible: “God loved the world *so much* that he sent his one and only Son, so that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.”

In my time as an engineer, I’ve had the opportunity to make many things, and often I’m proud of them. I like how they work, and when I see them do what they were intended to do, it makes me happy. When they break and don’t work right, it causes me grief, frustration, and pain. I think about the small amount of love I have for the creations of my hands, and imagine the incredible love and pride God must have for his creation. “He loved the world *so much*” – it isn’t an apathetic kind of love that doesn’t care what happens in the end – it is a love where God goes to any length possible in order to fix and save what he made from certain destruction.

I believe in a God of love. I believe that his love extends beyond me, to all people, and beyond all people to all things. How much? Paul writes that God showed his great love for us in this: that while we didn’t deserve it, Christ died for us. I believe in a God who loves his creation so much he was willing to sacrifice a part of himself to save it, even when his creation didn’t deserve it.

next: I believe in a God who dwells among us