Why I'm Not The Same Christian As I Used To Be - Part 2

One day during my planning period I was reading the Gospel of Matthew.

I had been wrestling with my faith for some time by this point, wondering if everything I had believed had been wrong. I couldn’t figure out how poor people of color, or those who faithfully worshiped at their mosque or temple, or those who were bullied because they were "different.", or those who couldn’t believe in a god because of all the abuse and violence they had experienced in their lives, were going to end up in hell just because of the circumstances they had inherited as a result of simply being born.

And then I read this:

“How terrible it will be for you legal experts and Pharisees! Hypocrites! You shut people out of the kingdom of heaven. You don’t enter yourselves, and you won’t allow those who want to enter to do so.” – Matthew 23.13

And then it hit me: I was a Pharisee!

And Jesus was condemning me.

I was ashamed, disheartened and distraught. 

The only people that Jesus ever spoke harshly to, as far as I could tell, were people like me. I had become the antithesis of what a Christ follower should be, and I couldn’t even see it. Until now.

In my despair, I determined in that moment to abandon my affiliation with Christianity forever.

That decision only lasted a couple of days though. I began to realize that Pharisees could be redeemed too. I read a story in the Gospel of John, chapter 3 about a Pharisee who came to Jesus and asked what he needed to do to change. Jesus told him to be born again. There is hope for everyone. 

I prayed, and asked God if I might be born again. And I felt that I had been. Nothing mystical or supernatural; just an inward affirmation. 

But if I was going to be a Christian again, I had to be a different kind of Christian.

Not the kind I was before; the kind that is still in full force in America today. The kind of Christian that uses the Bible to support racism, misogyny, homophobia, white supremacy, and nationalism. The kind of Christian that opposes science – particularly as it relates to the age of the universe, evolution, and environmental issues like climate change. The kind of Christian that is more concerned about the rapture and “going to heaven” than about caring for the least of these here on earth now. The kind of Christian that proudly makes a distinction between “us” and “them.”

The problem with being born again is that you have to grow up. I didn’t simply become a fully mature Christian overnight. I’m still not there yet, and I don’t imagine that I’ll ever get there fully; I’m on a journey. We all are. And sometimes that journey can be painful and frustrating. I didn’t automatically stop being the kind of Christian that I was before. I had been that guy for a long time, and the truth is, if I’m not careful, I can still be that guy sometimes.

When I choose to think about myself and my desires over and above those of others, especially the less fortunate, I am that guy. When I make a judgmental remark (or make a judgmental assumption) about someone without getting to know them first, I am that guy. When I reap the benefits of a system designed to privilege me because of the color of my skin, my economic status, my religious preference, my voter registration identification, my zip code, or the number of diplomas I have on my wall, without advocating for and speaking out on behalf of the millions of others who will never reap those same benefits, I am that guy.

I pray every morning that I won’t be that guy, but sometimes I am. 

I resonate with these words from the Apostle Paul:

“I find that, as a rule, when I want to do what is good, evil is right there with me.  I gladly agree with the Law on the inside, but I see a different law at work in my body. It wages a war against the law of my mind and takes me prisoner with the law of sin that is in my body. I’m a miserable human being. Who will deliver me from this dead corpse?” – Romans 7.21-24

His answer:

“Thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” – Romans 7.25a

It is only through the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth that I – or any of us – have any hope of being anything other than a self-centered jerk.

That’s what I realized in that classroom in 1997. 

I remember the moment distinctly. This thought came into my mind and stayed there: I don’t want to live in fear anymore. 

And here, I think, I have reached the most important point of this post. Don’t miss this.

I was motivated in everything I said and did by fear. 

And I think a lot of people – Christian people – are as well.

We don’t call it fear. We call it self-preservation or being careful, or protective. We don’t want to get hurt, or be misunderstood or upset anyone. The truth is; it’s fear.

I was afraid of many things, not least of which, those that scholars call the “Other.” The “Other”, is simply anyone not like us.

In Fear of the Other, former United Methodist Bishop and scholar Will Willimon writes, “There is a high price to be paid for fearing the threat of the Other more than we fear disappointing Jesus.” 

What I began to learn in those years in the classroom with my minority students was that while we were diverse racially, ethnically, economically, intellectually, and in nearly every other way, I was not any better than any of them. I was not the Great White Hope sent by God to rescue these poor destitutes from a life of drugs, crime, teen pregnancy, welfare and ultimately eternal separation from God (yep, that’s what I actually believed. What a jerk!) 

I began to read the Scriptures with new eyes, and read authors that began to shape my theology in fresh (and oftentimes uncomfortable) ways. In seminary I was introduced to Brian McLaren. His book A New Kind of Christian rocked my world. I learned about liberation theology and heard the phrase “God’s preferential option for the poor” for the very first time. I began to read the prophets as more than simply books that pointed to Jesus, but as books about God’s heart for the poor, about social justice and mercy above sacrifice. Micah 6.8 became a defining passage for me:

 He has told you, human one, what is good and
        what the Lord requires from you:
            to do justice, embrace faithful love, and walk humbly with your God.

Then when I got to the New Testament I worked slowly through all four Gospels noticing things that I never did before: things like the kinds of people that Jesus was drawn to; people who were nothing like him; the love and grace he showed to people who didn’t deserve it; the demands that he made regarding servanthood, self-denial and taking care of the “least of these;” and the number of times (especially in John’s Gospel) where he emphasizes the role of love as the identifying marker of his followers, as the greatest of all the commandments, and as the single most important characteristic for a life of faith.

Paul would piggyback on this and talk about love a lot. I noticed that he wrote that love is the greatest of all Christian attributes and he put it at the top of the list of what he called the “fruit of the Spirit.”

And then I got to the letters of John and I read this:

“Dear friends, let’s love each other, because love is from God, and everyone who loves is born from God and knows God. The person who doesn’t love does not know God, because God is love.” – I John 4.7-8

Wait, what? God is love? Love is how God identifies God’s self?

But John wasn’t finished, he was just getting started, verse 18 wrecked me:

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear,”

The opposite of fear is not courage; it’s love! The way we overcome our fear of the Other is through love. The only way that we are going to get anywhere as a society is through love. The only way we can be assured to not repeat Charlottesville, or September 11, or Pulse nightclub, or any of the other acts of hatred that seem to be perpetrated on a daily basis in this country and throughout the world is love!

The Christianity that I believe in today is a Christianity firmly rooted in love. A love that compels me to care more about others than about myself; a love that reminds me that we are all brothers and sisters, that we all belong to the same family, that in the eyes of God “(t)here is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” – Galatians 3.28.

And in the end, I believe that love is ultimately the only thing that will remain. Hatred will disappear, the walls that divide us will be broken down; we will see each other as we truly are, not as enemies but as siblings. In the end, as the Scriptures teach us there will be “a great crowd that no one (can) number … from every nation, tribe, people, and language.” – Revelation 7.9. In the end, the great prayer of Jesus will finally be answered: “I pray they will be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you…” – John 17.21a. 

And all of this will happen because love will win.

Love will always win!

This is the kind of Christianity I believe in. This is the kind of Christian I want to be.

I know that you may have some “But, what about …” questions. I’ll try to answer those tomorrow.