learning how to love.

 

"I like your Christ; I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."

More than I'd like to be true, I've found myself feeling this sentiment (which, by the way, was not said by Gandhi). 

I'm angry and bitter. That is not Christ-like.

I'm angry at the people parading around claiming Christ as their savior while using His name to justify violence, condemnation, and personal destruction. 

I'm angry because I've seen too many people walk away because this is the representation of Christ they are shown. 

I'm angry because I've been in a similar place, wondering if I really want to be part of a community that claims a faith based on the truth in love and grace while they live like they've been given license to personally condemn people to hell, or make judgements about their heart based on their politics. 

No one is perfect. Christians included. But I'm also bitter about that excuse. It falls flat in the face of the eternal consequences of living recklessly in the name of Jesus rather than loving recklessly. 

My gripe isn't with Christians who hurt – because that's all of us – but with Christians who hurt in the name of Jesus.

The weight is heavy. I don't know how to find a balance between using my voice and being compassionate toward all – even the compassionless. I struggle to treat people as I want to be treated and instead, lean toward treating them as they treat me. I'm just as flawed as they are. I hope and pray those flaws don't get in the way of someone knowing Jesus. 

How do I call attention to Christians being compassionless when I myself struggle to have compassion for them? How do I show grace while reminding my brothers and sisters of our call to love? To serve? To give? To help? To listen? No one can ask for perfection, but then again... Philippians 2 has some pretty strong wording... So does Romans 12... and in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says to "be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48).

 ~

I wrote the above section a while back. I'm not angry anymore, just a bit sad. When I wrote that section, I was in the midst of dealing with some deep, old "church hurts" that had been opened back up. And before I go any further, I want to say that I'm not here to call out any church or pastor or specific person. Rather, I'm calling out the detrimental parts of certain brands of Christianity – mostly Fundamentalist in terms of beliefs, but some attitudes of American Evangelical as well. I'm writing to make sense of the jumbled thoughts I've been having and I'm sharing them publicly in hopes that it helps someone else. 

While trying to put my thoughts into words recently, I had a startling realization. The realization I had was that American Christians tend to view Christianity the same way they view the United States: we can act however we want to act and if you have a problem with it, stay out. 

Now don't get me wrong: to be a follower of Christ means to believe Jesus as Lord and confess our sinfulness. That's what gets you "in." But too many people stop there... Good, we've got them saved, now our work is done. We forget that once we're in... we are called to love as He loves. That's where our behavior becomes important. We can't publicly shame a group of people and turn around and say, "If you don't like this, stay away from Christianity." Following Christ does not involve shaming people, and we are not supposed to be known by our shame.

On many occasions, I've heard people justify their brashness by saying that people are turned off by Christianity because "the Gospel is offensive." Uh no, you're offensive. Will everyone come to Christ if we are all loving? No. But will more people come listen to the Gospel if we are loving? Absolutely.

 ~

How we talk about others says a lot about us, and like it or not, represents us as Christ-followers. I often see other professing Christians behave and speak in ways that are blatantly contrary to the Gospel, while doing it in the name of Jesus. That is unacceptable. Not only is in contrary to how we are supposed to live, but you never know who is reading or listening and what kind of impact it is going to have on them. Let's get something straight: Mockery of anyone — acquaintances, family members, politicians, celebrities, service workers, experts, common people, people of other religions, sexual orientations, gender identities, socioeconomic statuses, races, or ethnicities — has no place in our lives as Christ-followers.

Listen: I do not think all Christians are terrible people. We're all flawed. That's the baseline. My life has been enriched in so many ways by Christians – rightly – in the name of Jesus. I have relied on my Christian community during many hard times over the past few years – because I felt like I could, unlike in years prior. I knew they were His by their love, and I don't know how I would have made it through without them. I'm not talking about these people. The struggle for me is how to handle the professing Christians who cause hurt – wrongly – in the name of Jesus.

How do you deal with fellow Christians telling you they are disappointed in you for researching on your own?
How do you deal with them assuming the "love" you insist we spread is merely progressivism?
How do you deal with the ones that are supposed to be called to compassion act in compassionless ways – in the name of Jesus?
How do you deal those who accuse you of just trying to be "liked" when you stand up for what you believe in while they are, ironically, trying to burn you at the stake?
How do you deal with people who treat Christianity the same way they treat America – as some sort of club you have to earn your way into, and a place you're encouraged to leave if you can't handle the bullies?
How do you deal with them treating you differently to your face, simply because you disagreed on a non-Gospel issue?
How do you deal with those who only come around to tell you you're wrong, and never to encourage you or ask how you're doing? Those who are quick to tell you that you're anti-Christian, but who scoff at the concept of kindness toward enemies and love for neighbor?
And how do you deal with the ones who claim they are shaming and condemning out of "love," when that love looks nothing like 1 Corinthians 13:4-13?
How do you deal with being part of a community where Christians are so deep in their own shame and self-loathing that they must bring you down to their level by shaming you, too?

I have these questions and more.

I do the things they always preach... I study the Bible. I try my hardest to understand how it was meant to be read, whether that means studying the cultural context or cross-referencing commentaries. I try to apply what it says to my life. I strive to seek truth, no matter what anyone thinks – family, friends, classmates, Christians, non-Christians, colleagues, co-workers...

That is how I got to where I am today – so far "strayed" from where "they" say I should be.

I did all the "right" things, and it led me to where they said was wrong... and then they wonder why I find myself unable to associate with their brand of faith. A brand that does not seek truth, but rather seeks to justify wrong actions... a brand rooted in fear and pride.

I know their opinions don't matter. I've got a handle on that now, but I'm speaking up because it could have cost me my faith. I've become so (wrongly) hardened toward these people because they did not show me Jesus. They were self-righteously paving a way of destruction. I've watched too many of my friends truly walk away for me to stay silent. 

I am so passionate about calling out these issues because I don't know where I'd be if God hadn't put people in my life who were clearly living out their faith. If He hadn't, I would think Christianity was just another cult-ish religion with nothing redeemable – not any different from all of the other faiths and religions in the world. I would see it as a group of people intent on telling everyone else why they are wrong and why God hates them. No trace of love, grace, empathy, compassion... A religion not much different from the face of Westboro Baptist. Why would I want to be part of that?

But Jesus... ever since I looked to Him and said, "Is this who you are?" He has been showing me that, no, that is not who He is. Although this process has been painful and confusing, I have the clarity of standing on my own but standing in Him. Living in the assurance of the truth, and not letting the failures of others shake my faith. And now... now I believe I need to be open about this journey, because so many are just starting theirs.

 ~

When I was going through the thick of this questioning, I didn't have examples of people who made it. None that were visible anyway. Openly doubting is taboo in evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity, so the only people I saw acknowledging their doubts were the ones walking away. I had people like Josh Harris – who had once been lifted up in those same fundamentalist circles – now not only renouncing his teachings, but his entire faith.

I once compared having doubts to boxes in a house. We shove the doubts into a box and stuff it in the basement of our hearts. Eventually, for some, the doubts win. These people never take the time to unpack the doubts. They just keep stuffing boxes, filling up the basement until there's no room left. The mess is too overwhelming to tackle, and by the looks of it, it seems like there can't possibly be any hope left. And then? Since the mess is too big to handle, instead of unpacking each box, they burn the house down. 

I don't want to do that. I want to be a testimony that you can have doubts. You can test them, engage with them, challenge them, unpack each and every box...and come away with a stronger faith because of it. And I also want people to know that you can go through that whole process, and still, people will try to tear you down and discredit you. Sometimes they will do this in the name of Jesus. We know that's not okay – but maybe now we can work toward finding people who will sharpen us rather than harden us.

Don't get me wrong here – I don't think I have it all figured out. At 25, if there's one thing I know, it's that the more I learn, the more questions I have, and the less I have figured out. But I know what I've experienced. I know there are others who are going through the same thing or will go through the same thing. For them, I share my story. As always, you are welcome to reach out to me if you need to talk. For the rest of you, let's do better.

I knew they were His because of their love. I hope and pray I am that example for others, too, but I also hope you'll join me in that pursuit.

Jude 1:22-23.