Living in the Tension - Part 1?

Sitting in tension is difficult for most of us. We want definitive answers. We feel much more comfortable with black and white. Good and evil. Wrong and right. Do this, don't do that. We sometimes strain at the confines of clearly defined answers, but overall, for most of us it feels better than not knowing. It is better than the constant pull to think about all. the. things. This manifests in every single area of life right now.

Should I watch this show?

Can I shop at this business?

Is it okay to eat food here?

Can I listen to this teacher?

Can I "like" what this person says?

What about this church/denomination?

Who are we mad at this week?

Who/what are we boycotting this week?

In my experience, most of these questions were easily answered by the higher ups in my churches or denominations. If we're being completely honest, this is true for most of us - religious or not, there have always been "higher ups" willing to tell us what to think. The common man didn't need to give it much thought - someone else was always happy to tell us what we should think or do about a myriad of different situations. No matter where you fall on the spiritual, political continuums, there is no lack of people and institutions willing to tell us how we should think about almost every single decision that could come up in a person's daily life. And just to keep things spicy, it feels like it changes on the daily. Who could keep up?

Just a few of the things I've been told were true and at one time have been absolutely certain about:

I had a very clear picture of what to do with any and all law breakers: throw the book at 'em -- until I knew and loved some people that broke the law. While their choices were still super bad, I now know the horrific life circumstances that made choosing better options difficult (and perhaps in their mind, even impossible). I've watched them receive unreasonable sentences, watched how they are treated in prison, watched ridiculous requirements, fines and restrictions placed on them once they are released. Learning that in truth "paying your debt to society" means nothing - it is a myth. That debt is never truly paid within our current system. So now I hold this in tension. The law was broken - the law often is in place for a reason, yet there are deep flaws in our judicial and prison systems - flaws that make society worse rather than better, that harm rather than heal, that punish rather than rehabilitate, that punish the innocent and free the guilty, that punish some while looking the other way for others.

I knew all the answers on immigration: We have immigration laws here. They are here to protect us. Break those laws, go to jail or go back - that's the end of that. Then I met people. I read stories. There are people that come into our country illegally, to do harmful, illegal things. They should be stopped. There are also people that try for decades, spending thousands of dollars, to be here legally, in near constant fear of being sent back to a country they barely know or do not know at all. There are people fleeing incomprehensible pain and suffering, desperate to save themselves and their children. There are people coming, just as many of our ancestors did, simply for a better life, to pursue dreams that will never be attainable in their countries of origin. But because of fear and hatred and prejudice, they will not have the opportunities many our ancestors did. All of these things are true - at the same time. There must be compassion. We must not allow the few that do reprehensible things to destroy our love and compassion for the majority that fall into the other categories. So now, I have to hold a tension between the rule of law, the sometimes good reasons for those laws yet also knowing there must be grace in the fact that our system is desperately broken and compassion has been forgotten.

I used to have firm, unwavering answers about drinking, divorce,  the LGBTQ community, public schooling, women working, women pastoring, scripture, politics, the death penalty. The list is longer, but I'll stop here. I could talk you under the table as to why my opinion was the right opinion. Not so much anymore. Some of these I no longer hold much tension about, finding a space of peace in where I've settled. Some I still hold a bit loosely. I'll gradually speak to some of these at more length. As I said, it's been a process, is still a process - but I'm ready to find my voice in the midst of the process. I'm ready to not be afraid to be a work in progress, to be okay with not being utterly certain about everything.

A while back, I heard a teacher I listen to regularly, via a podcast, talking about this topic. He talked about how most of us have been raised with answers. There are hundreds of things every single day that we don't have to think about - we just do them, hundreds of decisions we don't really have to give much thought to, we just do what we have always done, think what we have always thought. This current culture's shake up, the advances in communication and science that can turn what we knew completely upside down, the easy access to knowledge we would never have had even a generation ago, has us second guessing and rethinking so. many. things. To some degree every generation does this, as we learn and grow, as the next generation begins the natural process of questioning and making things their own, rather than their parents, but it feels harder, somehow more, now. Sometimes it can feel like what it might be like to have to think about every breath we take or every beat of our heart. Exhausting, right? Because of that exhaustion of having to rethink and reevaluate so many things that we used to do, say, think or perform thoughtlessly, we tend to either close our eyes, cover our ears and stay put right where we are or we are easily led into new but still very firm, settled answers. Most of us gravitate toward people that tell us how to think because it's easier than thinking for ourselves, it's easier than searching and studying and listening and investing. In the midst of this shake up, what we're finding is fundamentalists to the right of us, yes - I'm familiar with them. But also, fundamentalists to the left of us. There are an abundance of people making the rules, casting out the dissenters, judging those who don't fall in line quickly enough - everywhere we turn. 

Refusing to be forced into these thought camps requires us to hold a lot of tension and holding tension is hard. We've arrived at a place in our culture where holding tension is not allowed. There is little to no space for questioning or transition or change. There is no space for questioning and then even perhaps determining your original beliefs are still your beliefs. You are all in or all out - no matter which place you land. If you stand in a place of tension, asking questions, you are often judged from both sides of the issue. Those that have asked the questions and landed in new places have often forgotten what that in-between space is like. People walk away from church simply because they're not allowed to think or ask questions - and I see this everywhere. The far right does not hold the award here. This fundamentalist mentality is in most every camp. We allow fear to force each other either into the "right" camp or out into the wilderness to fend for themselves.

I have spent years being afraid to even say some of these things out loud. And I do mean years - some of these things I remember questioning in my heart as young as junior high, but I never, ever voiced the questions. Our culture, and especially church culture, worships certitude.  Because I didn't have firm answers, because I was not certain and because simply not being sure of the final answer was seen to be hostile - as bad as actually changing your convictions, I allowed myself to retreat into silence on so many issues. I believed that I should not speak until I KNEW the answer one way or the other. Four and half decades into my life, I was finally allowing myself to ask questions, but I still expected certainty at the end of my journey. 

We all ache to belong. Being in the wilderness of both wandering and wondering can be lonely. We are often willing to abandon any questions, any independent thought, squelch any doubt, in order to continue to feel like we belong somewhere. But here I am, a wonderer and a wanderer. None of this has moved me away from Jesus. If anything, it has drawn me closer to Him. I realize some, in this process, have left faith altogether, but that is not where I am. I am firmly committed to Jesus and His ways.

I've found a few others that feel lost in the in-between as well and it's not quite as lonely now. My prayer is that the church, as well as the larger culture, will learn to hold space for differences. (And let me be perfectly clear - I am not talking about differences that involve any form of abuse, oppression, deceit - let's leave no space whatsoever for that.) I pray we would learn to walk in unity without necessarily uniformity. I pray we would allow safety and acceptance for those in process. But lonely or no, I'm moving forward. Like me or don't. Judge me or don't. Label me conservative or liberal, Christian or not. I'm okay. I'll continue to ask my questions, I'll hold the tension. I'll follow Jesus.

But Jesus

Lent was difficult this year. I've struggled to connect. I've done the readings mostly faithfully. I've fasted mostly as I committed to fast. I spent much time still contemplating the doubt that sits just off to the side most of the time. The uncertainty of our very society right now. The frustration of so much polarization. 

The pain and relief (both/and) of letting go. The shock and the thrill (both/and) of what I've learned to set down - it is too heavy. The pedastals that have come crashing down (as they should). I've felt disconnected, as I know many of us do right now. 

But this morning, y'all. This morning.

I woke up early, pre-sunrise, put on my fuzzy robe and sat outside on my patio. This is one of my favorite parts of the day once it warms up again. And my first time this spring. As I sat there, expecting the same sense of disconnectedness as I've felt the last long while, I was surprised by....Hope.

Much has been lost.

But Jesus. 

I just can't let go of Him.

And just as He surprised Mary in the garden, He surprised me this morning. With Hope.

And then we gathered. Masked. Distanced. But still, y'all. Faces (okay, eyes) I haven't seen in real life in months. Smiling eyes. Muffled praises raised. Peace passed. Body and blood. The Table. Truth.

I can't let go of Jesus.

I can't let go of those He loves (which is all of us, btw).

I can't let go of the beauty He created and gave us.

Our pastor brought Hope this morning. Here's what stuck tight -- "Any kind of spirituality that makes you less interested in humanity or the world we live in, is not resurrection faith." -- This truth will of necessity bring pain along with it. But also Hope.

If this is a particularly difficult season for you, even still today, I get it. Hold on. 

Hope is coming. And He is good.

Ending with a Rachel Held Evans quote that I think of nearly every single day.

"The apostles remembered what many modern Christians tend to forget -- that what makes the gospel offensive isn't who it keeps out but who it keeps in. I am a Christian, I concluded, because the story of Jesus is still the story I'm willing to be wrong about."

Social Reform Does Not Change Hearts

Social reform does not change hearts, but it does save lives. It does protect people against injustice. It does aid in holding back evil.

Social reform has proven time and again that while it may not change evil hearts, it can begin to create an environment in which people can begin to see with new imaginations, see new ways to live, to overcome previously held false beliefs and fears.

Once upon a time, most people could not imagine a nation not built on stealing land and dominating and decimating it's native people. We called it "manifest destiny" and made it our spiritual obligation to bring our way of doing things to other lands and forcing it upon them. But a group of people were brave enough to fight for righteousness in the face of great opposition to change. Now most of us find this repulsive. 

Prior to the abolition of slavery, most people could not imagine a society existing without our economic system being held up by the overt oppression of Black bodies. But a group of people were brave enough to fight for righteousness in the face of great opposition to change. Now most of our world finds chattel slavery abhorrent. 

Prior to the dismantling of Jim Crow laws, most people could not imagine a society apart from this caste system we had created. But a group of people were brave enough to fight for righteousness in the face of great opposition to change. Now most of us find these types of laws and that type of behavior unimaginable.

Prior to de-segregation, most could not imagine a society where Black people are freely able to attend previously all white schools or live in previously all white neighborhoods. But a group of people were brave enough to fight for righteousness in the face of great opposition to change. Now most of us are repulsed by attempts to keep Black people, as well as any other ethnic group, out of any arena of American life.

But hearts are evil. Evil wants to hold power. So the evil of racism morphs, it finds more subtle ways to oppress, less overt ways to wield control, giving power to some groups and withholding it from others. We are, once again, standing at a juncture in our society where people are crying out to be heard - for justice to be given - for lives to be honored.

• Equal opportunities for quality education.
• Equal medical care.
• Equal treatment and sentencing when laws are violated.
• A restoration of at least some of what has been taken.
• An honoring of the land and heritage of Native Americans.
• Protection for people fleeing oppression.
• A justice system that is restorative, rather than punitive.
• A reformation within our policing that ends brutality and holds those that cross the line accountable.
• Ending a mass incarceration system that has destroyed countless lives and families. 
• Ending a "war on drugs" that has intentionally targeted Black communities and poor communities.
• Abolishing systems that allow the oppression of those that believe, look, act, differently than those currently in power.

And once again, entirely too many of us cannot imagine a different way  - "it has always been and always will be." Our imaginations are stunted by our comfort, by convenience, by false belief systems, by prejudice, by wealth, by ignorance, by fear, and sometimes by outright hate.

We cannot imagine a world where all children receive a top notch education.

We cannot imagine a world where people do not die for lack of basic medical care.

We cannot imagine a world that restores rather than punishing and oppressing.

We cannot imagine a way to repair what we have broken in our history as a nation.

We cannot imagine a way to treat the whole person, rather than punishing the results of trauma.

We have a long way to go in restoring what has been stolen from native peoples, in repenting, as a nation, for what we've done both here and abroad to generations of people that we perceived to be somehow less than, that we harmed in exchange for the almighty dollar. We have come a long way, but there is a long way still to go. There is much happening today in the realm of restoring justice, that our forefathers and mothers could not have begun to imagine - yet here we are. What could we imagine today that could change our children's and grandchildren's and great grandchildren's futures? What could we imagine that would someday save lives, heal families, restore generations? 

This side of Jesus' return, things will never be perfectly as they should be, evil will continue to try and find new ways to assert it's ugly head, but may we never be willing to settle for injustice in our society simply because we cannot envision it being any better. I fear we have traded God-given and gifted imaginations toward a future that reflects His Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, for a long list of stubbornly held doctrines and a false sense of "rightness." The false belief system that we cannot address this on a societal level has been proven wrong too many times. To keep touting these excuses goes against the very heart of God. Scripture is literally filled with God's hatred of injustice and oppression and His judgment came swiftly for ignoring it. He has called us to be agents of change for His Kingdom. Full stop.

I am thankful for a group of people brave enough to lead and speak and teach a better way, a more imaginative way, a more righteous way, still today. The white American Church has supported opposition to these new, imaginative ways in frightening numbers at every single era and every step toward change throughout our country's history and sadly, it appears to be the case still today. I pray this tide will begin to turn. I pray we will hear them. I pray we will seek to have greater imaginations for God to once again break in to our old ways of thinking and make a better way.

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If you're looking for a first step, I'd like to suggest beginning to follow a leader, pastor, author or activist on whatever social media platform you most frequent. Start by listening. Start today. If you're not ready to take a first step, seriously look inward and figure out why. Here are a few I follow or have read/listened to:

Latasha Morrison (founder of Be the Bridge - I cannot recommend this group on FB highly enough)

Jamar Tisby - The Color of Compromise

Esau McCaulley - Reading While Black

Austin Channing Brown - I'm Still Here

Kyle Howard (he is most active on Twitter)

Bernice King

Lisa Sharon Harper - The Very Good Gospel

Carlos Whittaker (he is most active on Instagram)

Carlos Rodriguez

Ibram X. Kendi - Stamped From the Beginning

Bryan Stevenson - Just Mercy

Ta-Nehisi Coates - Between the World and Me

Michelle Alexander - The New Jim Crow

Drew G. I. Hart - Trouble I've Seen

Ally Henny

Preemptive Love

Faith & Prejudice (a Facebook page that does a lot of faith-rooted education and advocacy)

Richard Rothstein - The Color of Law

David Swanson - Rediscipling the White Church (one of only two white people on my list, but a phenomenal teacher on discipling the white Church into a better understanding of the fullness of the Body of Christ.)

There are many, and I'm sure I've forgotten some important ones. Please feel free to add to my list in the comments.

Braiding Grief and Joy

I've written before about the things I've learned over the last few years around dealing with grief. For most of my life, grief (along with any other emotion deemed to be a negative emotion) had been something that you dealt with quickly and moved on. The ability to move past in a reasonable time frame is seen as strength, as trusting God. Lingering in grief beyond what others are comfortable with can often be seen as doubt (also an unwanted emotion), as a lack of trust. 

I haven't believed this for a long time. I've talked about what I've learned about the value of sitting in these hard emotions. Grief. Anger. Doubt. To face them fully. To feel all the feelings and not consider them bad or negative. 

I've recently realized that while I have changed and this has become part of who I am, I've also held some sense of feeling like once I've done this sitting and facing and processing that I would THEN be able to move on without them. But this is no more true than my earlier beliefs. Many of our more challenging emotions will never truly go away on this side of eternity. Not our anger or our doubts, certainly not our grief or fear. They will always be a part of this journey. I spent much of the last few days struggling with when this grief would lift, feeling as if I was losing some unseen battle because it still lingers. The Bible is replete with examples of people that never saw the end of what we consider unwanted emotions. We say we believe He is the God of comfort, yet in practice, we seem to expect to rarely need Him in this way. 

Pull yourself up. 

Get over it. 

Stop whining. 

Are they still crying? 

Why can't they just let it go?

They just need to think more positive!

In practice, we do not seem to believe.

Then yesterday morning, as I prayed, as I asked Him basically, "How long, O Lord?," I felt like God was telling me that it may never leave me. This situation, this loss, these circumstances, may never change and I may never not be grieving that. But He will be sufficient even in this. Later in the morning, at church, my friend (knowing nothing of my recent struggle) said that rather than trying to avoid it, we need to turn fully to it, embrace it. And that as we face it fully, we simultaneously embrace gratitude. 

This mental picture resonates with me - this braiding together of the difficult with the good. 

‬The realization I'm coming to is we must both sit in AND move on. I've had some false sense that I couldn't move forward until I processed this grief fully and then somehow, magically, left it there as I moved on. That I would deal with my anger and then move on. Deal with this doubt, and once it's gone and replaced with a new certainty, move forward. But this is not the case. 

Both. And. 

How do I hold my grief and my joy simultaneously? How do I hold anger and love? Doubt and trust? This is the road of following Jesus - this tension of now and not yet. I can indeed move on, even as I face fully that this grief will move forward with me. As will Joy. God is with us, in the midst of. 

Grief and joy.

Anger and love.

Fear and courage.

Anxiety and gratitude.

Doubt and trust.

God with us. Emmanuel.

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"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies." ~2 Cor. 4:7‭, ‬9‭-‬10

A Reckoning

Lent begins today, with Ash Wednesday, A time of reflection, of repentance, of grieving and a time of giving. A time to give up some things. A time to take on others. It honestly feels like, in this last year of dealing with a worldwide Pandemic, with civil, political, social and racial unrest all around us, that there is nothing left to give, nothing left to take on. We have already had to give up so much just to get through day-to-day life. We have had to take on things we never dreamed would become routine, just to survive. So as I approached this season, my initial thought was, "Maybe just skip it this year, Sherrie." But then my next thought was that perhaps, in the midst of so much weariness, we should be all the more diligent to draw near to the One who is above and beyond all of this, while still dwelling with us in the midst of it. It feels particularly important this year. And even though it feels a little daunting to me right now, I think I need the focus and consistency that Lent can bring.

Grieving. Repentance. Grief feels like a constant companion for many of us right now, doesn't it? We've lost people we love, we've lost jobs, we've lost relationships (or for some, they feel strained beyond healing), we've lost connection. Add apocalyptic levels of unveiling that the last few years, and especially this last year, have brought within the church in America, and within my own heart, it is overwhelming at times. Yet, I do not want to grieve as one who has no Hope. I do not want my repentance to be a false contrition, but instead a legitimate turning from those things that offend God and harm others. 

As Brian and I have moved toward Anglican/Episcopal traditions, one of the more meaningful things we've come to appreciate is the common confession. Confession, both individual and corporate, is practiced every time we gather. Scripture is replete with examples of God calling for, and the people responding with, corporate confession (some of these examples are confessions voiced by those that had not physically committed the sins they confessed, yet still bore communal responsibility) - yet we have all but forgotten this as a practice or a need. There is much to reckon with, both corporately and individually. Lent provides extended time to wrestle with this and make ourselves available for God to speak.

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We are guilty.

I am weary from the onslaught of new unveilings of what Church leaders have willingly hidden (one particularly troubling investigation revealed just this last week). These often take me beyond weariness to rage, as men continue to choose to hide known sin, to believe and protect serial abusers, rather than their victims, all in the name of some sick, misguided, demonic attempt to protect (they say) the reputation of their institutions. The watching church attempting to give any justification for the silence and suppression of these heinous deeds testifies clearly that we are blind to the fact that the world is watching and mocks our self-righteous attempts to make it sound less horrifying than it is.

I am saddened by how many teachers and leaders I once held in high regard I no longer trust or respect. The vast numbers that have relinquished their witness for a seat at tables of power, those that manipulate with fear rather than lead with love, those that have abandoned a call to live the cruciform life exemplified in our Savior. We have spent decades growing a culture of celebrity (both the big "C" church celebrities and within our own small communities), of setting our leaders on pedestals. We accept blindly the fear many of them peddle, we forsake (at their instruction) love of neighbor in exchange for protecting our "rights." Perhaps this has always been so and I was naïve enough to not see it. I am beginning to see this as the case. My naivety is gone, replaced by frequent battles with cynicism.

I'm horrified at what we do and say to each other, the horrific things we are willing to justify or ignore, while waving Jesus Saves flags and rarely missing a Sunday at church. The oppression we are willing to turn a blind eye to because it does not affect our lives, because it doesn't harm our children, or worse yet because we may benefit from the oppression of others. The silence we encourage and even enforce in the name of a false peace, an artificial unity. The often complete abandonment of seeing the imago dei in each and every person we are brought into contact with.

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I am guilty. 

• I have spent my life in a larger church culture that would have me among those that lean toward believing the abuser and casting doubt on the victim. I have distinct memories of hearing rumors of abuse and my initial, trained, instinct was to believe the accused and doubt the victim. 
• I have willingly slumbered peacefully while others suffered, unwilling to give up my peace and comfort or my willful ignorance, for the sake of others. 
• I have traded peacemaking for peacekeeping, I have not listened to the cries of those who try to tell us they are suffering. I have instead listened, without question, to leaders in the larger Church culture, and even at times in the local bodies I've been a part of. I have listened to those who look like me, who have lived like me, and translated that to universal truth. I have chosen who to listen to based on what will require the least amount of sacrifice or change on my part.
• I have not loved my neighbor as myself. I have chosen accumulation, scarcity mindset, ease and convenience rather than listening and then holding loosely to what is "mine," so that I might use it to benefit others, to work for the flourishing of our world. I pray that this season will bring me a full awareness and clarity of new ways to release my resources for the good of others, for the building up of new ways of being together in this world. 

I have been complicit in all these things. I am certain there are days I am guilty still.

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The Church is losing a large part of an entire generation. Many of them have seen through the whitewash we keep layering on, many have been harmed by abuse or unchecked authoritarian and patriarchal rule, many are sick of watching the exchange of character for power, or the making of nationalism and political parties as markers of spiritual faithfulness. We like to blame it on all manner of "worldly influences," but the responsibility for that loss is primarily ours. I count myself among those responsible for this mass exodus. I have no doubt there are things I have done and said, didn't say and didn't do, things I did not question out loud (due to my own fear), but should have, my own self-righteous certitude, have contributed to some close to me wandering or walking away completely. I can blame it on "the world" or I can own it, repent, learn better and live differently.

This is hard to write. It is hard to reflect on. I would guess it is hard to read. Our natural inclination is to push back, to offer excuses, to distract ourselves with the busyness of our job or family or ministry (all good things). Or we offer a brief, cursory apology, without serious reflection on the harm our forefathers have caused, that we allowed to perpetuate, and then became perpetrators in our own right -- without working toward how best to repair it and avoid it in the future. I pray that instead of all those things, we will see this reckoning for what it is. It is an apocalypse, an unveiling, of a systemic sickness that has pervaded the church in America for far too long. God is allowing the cover to be ripped back for the world to see. We have allowed the creation and continuation of institutions, churches and para-church organizations that elevate celebrity, that broker in fear and the creation of enemies, that perpetuate culture wars rather than foster enemy love. It is ugly. And we need to see it and face it for what it is. 

Instead of circling the wagons and grabbing for cover, instead of blaming and shouting excuses, instead of once again making this an "us vs. them," instead of simply saying we're glad that's not our church or not our leaders... that we would corporately repent of worshipping an institution more than Jesus, holding more tightly to our perceived reputations than to truth and justice, of loving power, money, comfort and acclaim more than faithfully serving the least of these. To be fair, this may not even be a conscious choice for some of us - I would say honestly, that for a long time it was not conscious for me. I was simply marinating in the juices of these structures. At some point though, we become responsible for what we marinate in, responsible to those this system harms, even if we did not actively help build it. 

We can claim that discussing these things "gives Jesus a black eye" or "harms the reputation of the Church,"  or "just stirs up division," but these are excuses. Jesus does not need us to defend Him. And NOT talking about and facing these things is what is destroying our witness before a watching world. We must make a choice to tear it down and build instead that which is truly good news, the gospel, for all people, as Jesus has commissioned us to do. Even though I am more aware now, the tendency to want to back up, to go back to not knowing, to go back to sticking my head in the sand, allowing "them" to make the rules and I just follow along, is strong. I must daily repent and choose to walk in full awareness.

I recognize this sounds super depressing - and it is. I am thankful that Lent teaches us that seasons of grief, of facing hard truths, are necessary and need to be faced on the regular. There are faithful teachers, leaders, pastors. There are men and women that live openly, transparently and faithfully. There are those giving up power and acclaim and popularity to serve faithfully in their homes and their small groups and their cities and churches. The faithful are here. They are serving to be agents of Christ to restore what has been broken. They are far from perfect, but they are indeed faithful. And I am thankful to be a part of one of those churches.

The truth is that none of that good in the midst of the hard negates our need to repent corporately, one and all, for what we've settled for, covered up, approved, even worshipped. We need to both individually and corporately repent of all that has nothing to do with Jesus. I am praying fervently that this season of Lent will lend itself to bold, courageous facing of truth, no matter how hard that is. For me first - and then for all of us.

Because on the other side of the reflection, the grief, the repentance?

Resurrection.

Cancel Culture & The Church

You can't scroll more than three or four posts without hearing someone bemoan "cancel culture" or that certain voices are being shut out of the public square. And to a certain degree, I have seen some that are concerning, but here's the deal: this culture of cancelling others is not a tool exclusively used by the *radical left* - the evangelical church culture had been proficient in this skill for as long as I can remember. The lists below are people and places that I jotted down in about five minutes, with little thought. They are people and places that I've been instructed and encouraged, within my adult life, to "cancel." I'm guessing that anyone growing up in this same culture could add several others.

• Amy Grant
• Sandi Patty
• Rob Bell
• Eugene Peterson
• Jen Hatmaker
• Colin Kaepernick
• Rachel Held Evans
• Beth Moore
• Russell Moore
• World Vision
• Christianity Today
• Disney
• Teletubbies
• Pokemon
• Harry Potter
• The NFL

Do not buy their music.

Do not buy their books.

Do not attend their conferences.

Do not give them your money.

Keep your children away from them.

Do not watch.

Do not read.

Do not trust.

Some have been uninvited to conferences they'd been booked to speak at, had their books stripped from Christian book store shelves, had droves of Christian people pull sponsorships and subscriptions. And everyone of these people (and a couple of the organizations) are Christ-following Christians or overtly Christian in their ministries. This was primarily Christians cancelling Christians.

And here's what my point is NOT: I'm NOT saying we don't have the right to disagree with any or all of these people, institutions, books, shows, etc. We get to choose who and what to support, who and what gets our time and money. We do. We also get to choose, as Jesus-following people to continue to support and agree with these people and organizations, even as we're told not to.

Here is what my point is: I see a great hypocrisy in decrying it from the left when the right, and specifically here, the Church, have been doing it for decades. To. Each. Other.

We ought not be surprised when we see it used in ways that we may not agree with. We've been experts at this game for a very long time.

How Do We Value Life? Really?

In the last few years, I've grown somewhat hesitant to claim the label prolife, for reasons I will explain in a moment. But I'm also unwilling to carry the prochoice label. In a world that is increasingly forcing us to wear labels, to take sides, to go to war and take no prisoners, I'm increasingly adverse to labels.

I am distrustful of politicians from both camps, as I see them using the issue to inflame fear and garner votes. I do not believe anymore that the majority of "prolife" legislators really intend to change anything significantly. I don't even think most of them believe in the cause they rally us to. If they did what their supporters have rallied and elected them to do (and at times in our political history, even recently, they have had the power to do so, yet did not), what fear would they use next time around to get votes? It's a game. A game that has lives at stake, but a game nonetheless. Fear is the actual goal in this game and we have been their pawns for decades.

I've watched far too many people that fly these flags spend more time casting stones, tossing verbal grenades across the huge chasm we've erected between us. The executive branch changing parties has them coming out of the woodwork from both sides. Hate is the primary thing being created here - it is most certainly not creating a whole life ethic that cares for both an unborn child and the mother carrying that child.

In recent days I've seen prolife proponents state proudly that they will have no discussions with anyone unwilling to call all abortions outright murder, no discussions that do not include making it a criminal action... That anyone offering any nuance simply doesn't know Jesus or believe the Bible.

I've seen pro-choice supporters state proudly that they will have no discussions with anyone that speaks of the fetus as being a living child or having any rights, that speaking up for the rights of the fetus is tantamount to hating women.

Meanwhile the lives of unborn children are still lost. Their mothers are still disrespected, still forced into unimaginable choices, still dying. All under the weight of our sanctimonious flag waving and judgement.

Do you know what won't stop abortions or convince anyone to change their prochoice stance? Overturning Roe v. Wade. Plastering pictures of unborn children or graphic depictions of aborted babies all over your car or your feed or signs or billboards. I know and love people on the opposing side. They back further into their ideological corner at these tactics.

Do you know what won't bring about autonomy, respect and care for women? Completely ostracizing people that value the life of unborn children and believe those children have rights. I know and love people on this opposing side here as well. They become even more militant when this happens.

What will change both of these things? Living out an ethic that values all life. Listening to people that see things you cannot/do not see. Coming to the table to design policies that are proven to both protect women and reduce abortions, protecting unborn children. 

I recently heard the following question, and it was a gut-check for me: If we put the money and energy into actual causes that are proven to reduce the number of abortions, rather than nearly all our money and energy into campaigns for legislators and presidents that promise to change this system to the way we believe it should be (and they, in fact, do not), what difference would we see in ten years? Both in decreased numbers of abortions and in increased valuing of the health and autonomy of women? Honestly, that's convicting for me. Not what am I saying, but what am I doing?

There are people trying to do just this, trying to begin having these conversations. I've sat in a couple of Zoom conferences with believers on all sides of this issue having hard conversations. I'll be signing up for more over the next few weeks. It is not easy. Passions run high. We have to commit to shutting up and listening. Commit to climbing down off our moral high ground and finding answers that actually work, because there are some. I don't agree with everything I hear, but I'm learning to listen, learning I may not see everything there is to see. You can be horrified by the loss of unborn life and still listen to women. You can see the horrors women have had to endure at the hands of unjust men and unjust laws and still hear those who care about a child in the womb. 

We live in a broken society. There have always been and always will be abortions. For reasons we cannot begin to imagine and for reasons that should never be. No law will completely stop this. I no longer believe that criminally prosecuting either a woman or her doctor will stop abortions. I do believe, however, there are things that will seriously lower the numbers. There are laws and policies that, if created in bipartisan fashion, with us supporting it, can make a significant impact on reducing them. There are ways we can be living our actual lives that value life rather than reducing it's value. And the prolife side is every bit as guilty of reducing the value of life as the prochoice side is. It comes down to choosing to undervalue different lives.

What we're doing is not working. Babies keep dying. Women are vilified and not truly valued. The chasm gets wider. Do we want to value life or do we simply want to be right?

Two things I'll end with:

1. If you're even remotely interested in beginning nuanced conversation, Red Letter Christians and The & Campaign are both trying to do just this. You can find them on Facebook or Instagram. (If you know of other spaces, especially if they're local, I'd love it if you'd share them with the rest of us.) And also, commit to listening to the friends and neighbors in your actual life that have a different perspective.
2. I will delete any comments that are unkind or attempt to shut out opposing opinions without open, listening postures. And yes, I know that is subjective, but it's my page, so I'll decide.

Mostly, I'd just like you to pray about how, no matter which side of this divide you sit on, you can begin to listen and speak in ways that will bring life-valuing change.