Peace Hacks

Christians are leaving their faith in record numbers. For some, religion in general has gotten too judgmental, politically divisive, unhealthy. Others have come to believe, in this day of scientific discovery, that God can’t possibly exist, only a fool has the head-space to believe.

I’ve been a Jesus follower for 30 years, or at least someone who’s trying, with a few successes. I can speak to the reasons why people are jumping ship as I’ve wrestled with many of them myself: church is a frustrating place, ripe for let-downs, and hurt – lots of hurt; the religious world’s escapades can be, many times, downright crazy; and trying to make sense of a magical, invisible force that loves us but allows the world to suffer as it does is a difficult endeavor at best. I’ve also experienced the other side, the good stuff, the life that comes from being part of a faith community and choosing to believe that there’s more to this place than the things we’ve dismissed as ordinary.

I’ve seen some crazy things go down at church – racism, cultural cluelessness, power plays, betrayals, rampant materialism, manipulation, cliques, tribes, etc., and I hate to admit that I’ve been party to some of these over the years. But I’ve come to understand that the problem with church isn’t church, it’s us, or better, what’s lying beneath the surface of us.

We bump into each other – be it marriage, friendship, working relationships, mutual interest communities, church, whatever – with something we like to call “baggage.” People have hurt us, and in our desire to “move on,” and/or “be faithful,” we fail to stop and deal with our emotional garbage, happily carrying it into the next relationship. We then find ourselves getting angry, frustrated, feeling betrayed, left out, marginalized, etc., but we haven’t yet aquainted ourselves with the internal hurt that’s driving it all, so we find someone else to blame, or better, someone else to hurt.

Add to that a dash of “religion,” i.e., the idea that there’s this God floating around in outer space who only loves the well-behaved, and you get a fire, a real good one, deep down in the unmovable places of a person’s soul. While there are many Christian jackasses in the world, there are none who don’t have some painful, unhealed things pulling their heartstrings, making their decisions, and taxing their peace.

The worst thing about church isn’t church, it’s the pain, fear, and anxiety that’s rummaging around in all of us – ALL of us. Put us together in one room to worship God, or talk about gardening, and it’ll be clear. We’re all struggling.

That’s why the Bible talks about our relationship with one another more than it talks about our relationship with God. It calls us, over and over again, into an impossible level of “oneness,” interdependency, and intimacy. It’s not a psychotherapeutical treatise by any stretch, instead expecting us to eat and serve forgiveness, compassion, mercy, justice, and an insane amount of generosity. To be a person of faith is to be a person that operates within tightly knit groups of people, to honor, value, and respect them, tolerating no division whatsoever, and cultivating a community that, to me, is the only hope for a world that’s been overthrown by so many ‘isms that seem hell bent on ripping this world apart.

I can’t say that I’m a hero in this arena. I’ve many times given ear to the siren call of cliques, tribes, division, racism, marginalization, entitlement, and all the other things that tax a healthy community. But, thanks to the many leaders walking miles ahead of me along the path of faith, I’ve come to learn that people are the currency of heaven, that good relationships are well worth their associated tribulations, and strong communities of faith are what our world needs most. Diving into these, and doing my best to make them stronger, has been no waste of time.

Maybe, when you hear “community of faith,” you hear, “a group of religious people pointing their fingers at non-religious people, trying to pressure them into becoming religious people.” There will always be plenty of that racket because, again, there will always be people fueled by something you would only have compassion for if you could see it for what it really is. But imagine a community, instead overthrown by generosity, compassion, forgiveness, mercy, justice, and all the other stuff Jesus told his followers to follow.

That’s what I believe church is supposed to be – a group of people who’ve lost their minds to the love of God. And to the degree that we surrender to His way of being together, much as we might fail, we bring hope into a modern, skeptical world that doesn’t put much faith in hope, especially when it comes to people.

We’re convinced; things are bad. Our screens are awash with the twinkling pixels of human failure – stupidity, selfishness, greed, envy, murder -rarely do we experience the humanity that should be. But the way we view us is the way we view our world. If people are “bad,” our world is “bad,” as is our general outlook on life. That’s why our hearts soar when we see strong communities being and doing good things simply because they’re good. It’s what the Bible calls “holy,” and everyone, believer or not, especially in the context of our current hopelessness, loves the tiniest nugget of holiness.

You can put me down as one of those crazy evangelicals who believes that human life begins somewhere super close to the conception event, mainly because I can’t think of a reason not to. It’s the beginning of the spaciotemporal progression that will result in something that we all agree is human, and it’s the only thing bearing human DNA whose humanity is in question.

The issue for me is not about choice, or God’s rules. I’m left asking what is the thing that’s being terminated? If it’s human, I think we should, with some exception, let it develop. If not, the issue gets much simpler.

Before I go any further, let me be clear: God didn’t put me on this earth to run around pointing fingers at people who don’t think or act as I think they should, abortion is no exception. You won’t find me ranting on social media about the liberal “baby killers” for whom God is warming up his best lightning bolts.

If you’re not familiar with, or connected to evangelicalism/conservative Christianity, you might think that abortion is one of our most important political issues. We talk about it a lot, and it’s one of the reasons why people from my camp support Donald Trump. It’s a matter of much urgency, and an war that we just can’t seem to win. When a political figure of much influence steps into the ring and vows to fight for us, our hearts soar.

But these days I’m left wondering if the issue of abortion is as urgent as we claim.

I have many conservative, anti abortion, long-time friends, but I can count on one hand how many of those have invested time and resources advocating for the rights of the unborn. I read a ton of social media posts condemning abortion, abortion doctors, liberal politicians, and the idiots who vote for them, but I’m left wondering why money is rarely put to mouth here.

If this is as urgent as we claim, wouldn’t we spend more money, invest more time, take more risks, etc? We don’t. For most anti-abortion evangelicals, our advocacy is limited to voting, and words, mean words most of the time, which might be one of the reasons why nobody wants to listen to us anymore.

I’m not offering this as an opinion about advocacy, I simply think it’s inconsistent for a group of people, who’ve traded so many opportunities for influence over this issue, to not be more invested. If we care so much, we would do much more than condemn, or vote.

Next up for me is the conundrum that is liberal politics. Some politicians on the left are extremely vocal: abortion is a woman’s choice, and everyone should have the right to terminate if that’s what they want to do. Others are less than comfortable with legalized abortion, but not so vocal for whatever reason.

Either way, from where I sit, the data seems clear. Liberal administrations post better abortion numbers than conservative ones. Historically, while liberal administrations are running the show, there have been bigger drops in abortion numbers in the US. Simply put, for those of us who lean conservative, a liberal vote is not a vote for more abortions.

When the next sets of data come out, everyone will be rejoicing, because Trump’s abortion numbers will most likely be “lower than any administration in US history” (which was true for Obama, too), but, had this administration adhered to a more liberal approach to abortion, instead of calling it wrong, and making a bunch of stuff illegal, and telling God’s people what they want to hear, the numbers would have been lower.

But this doesn’t seem to matter, clear as it is.

Why?

Last is the problem of in vitro fertilization (IVF – sorry, I’ve ranted about this before). This is a popular procedure for conservative christians who find themselves in the middle of our country’s fertility crisis. I’ve been in that boat – it’s heartbreaking to learn that biological children won’t be a possibility. Some of us turn to adoption, and some make the very understandable choice to go the IVF route.

The problem for us is that IVF has resulted in millions of embryos abandoned somewhere in a freezer.

My conservative friends tell me that there’s an “ethical” way to do IVF, but I’m left baffled at how someone who believes that human life begins at conception can also rationalize freezing said human, even if great care is taken to protect embryo viability. Either way, nobody’s advocating for this cross-section of humanity, or alarmed by the fact that, each year, more and more frozen embryos are being abandoned.

I don’t see any posts on social media about “evil baby freezers,” or the condemnation of IVF consumers for their disrespect of the unborn. If we do that, we’ll have to condemn people who are close to us, or worse, ourselves. It’s easier to condemn people we don’t know.

Again, while I have my opinions about IVF, I have no judgments here. I’m not writing this to condemn or promote, I just can’t figure out how so many of us can vehemently oppose abortion and simultaneously turn a blind eye to America’s embryo crisis.

All that to say – if you’re wondering why I don’t think or vote “conservatively” when it comes to this issue, I hope I’ve explained myself.

Please stop calling me a baby killer.

And I think you can understand why I’ve come to believe that this issue isn’t as urgent as we claim it to be, which begs the question, why is it so hot? As a southern-born-and-bred-evangelical, I could take some guesses, but I’ll leave that for another post.

Prior to December 2019, The Christian Post, one of the most popular online Evangelical publications in the world, never penned a critique of Christiaity Today beyond an Op Ed regarding CT’s views on spanking children, and an article about a contributing writer’s questionable business ties.

But immediately following CT’s call for Trump’s impeachment, CP launched a hailstorm of heretofore unmentioned accusations, claiming that the organization Billy Graham founded years ago is, among other things:

“disdainful,” “elitist,” “controlling,” “toxic,” “emotional,” “unbiblical,” “oblivious,” “corrosive,” “condescending,” “ignorant,” “uneducated,” “hypocritical,” and “clueless.”

All of these mined from a single article by CP’s executive and senior managing editors.

Suddenly, at the mere mention of a sitting president’s perceived moral failures, Christianity Today is transformed into a resource that no self-respecting Jesus follower should trust.

I’ve experienced something similar. As a southern-born-and-bred Evangelical, and no fan of the current administration, I have many Christian friends who aren’t happy with me. I face a similar barrage of insults at the mention of our current president’s dubiousness:

“You’re just as corrupt as you claim Donald Trump to be,” “I think you need to clean your glasses,” “Your hatred for Trump overrides the truth,” “Are you objective, or do you simply need Trump to be guilty?” “You’re just a spoiled child who can’t see past your emotions.”

Again, all of these from people who never had anything negative to say about me, now hurling judgments and accusations simply because I think Donald Trump is unfit for duty.

But I’m no angel either, guilty of launching my share of inflammatory tirades on social media, especially in the early days of Trump’s administration. How can my Christian comrades, many of whom lost their minds over Bill Clinton’s indescretions, support a candidate who celebrated, on video, the many virtues of sexual assault?

“What are you thinking?” “Thanks for Trump!” “Way to go, America!!”

In my mind, I’m one of the good guys, firmly convinced that Trump is hurting our country. On his watch the US is experiencing more division than I’ve seen in my lifetime; racism emboldened, racist systems left untouched, a growing insensitivity towards the poor and marginalized. If you support him, you’re hurting all of us, and ignoring the scriptures, right? Shouldn’t I make some attempt to straighten out my brothers and sisters? And isn’t it OK to use a few sharp words to get my point across?

Jesus did. He called king Herod a “fox;” the modern-day equivalent of a rodent. Both he and his cousin, John the Baptist, had choice snubs for the religious elite. The Bible is full of episodes where a servant of the Lord verbally rips into someone. The same goes for church history – Martin Luther once called the pope “a fart-ass and enemy of God.”

When engaging people whose minds have gone so far off track, am I not compelled, by the scriptures even, to ramp things up a bit? Although the Bible strictly forbids divisiveness, aren’t there exceptions? Jesus, John the Baptist, St. Paul, Martin Luther, etc. all brought division, and some insults, into arenas that were full of evil. Isn’t it OK to express myself in ways that my political adversaries might find disrespectful?

Maybe, but there’s a big difference between Martin Luther’s ministry, for example, and the ministry of “rip your brother to shreds on Facebook.”

I believe that Martin Luther was called, predestined, equipped. He had enormous buy-in, risking his life for what he believed to be the will of God. His encounters were personal, face-to-face. Ours aren’t. We don’t have the guts, or the buy-in.

But the biggest difference between Martin Luther’s ministry (or Jesus’, John’s, etc.) is that his detractors were beyond help. There’s no argument or strategy that would’ve changed their minds. The only way forward was direct, brutal.

Is that true for us? Are our political foes beyond hope? Is there a chance that a few face-to-face encounters in a coffee shop might change them, or, God forbid, us? Unfortunately, there’s no way to know. In our fear, anger, and lust to be “right,” we’ve completely skipped that step, choosing instead to embrace a strategy that brings more division into our ranks, if that’s even possible.

Scripture commands us, over and over, to approach our internal problems with longsuffering, humility, kindness, and respect. St. Paul says that we’re not even supposed to sue each other. While there’s nothing wrong with a discussion about Donald Trump’s moral failings, or the reasons why I believe he’s not a good president, I can do that respectfully, without any hint of an insult.

On the night of Jesus’ death, He prayed that we would all be “one.” Not, “everyone on the same page,” but the same kind of oneness that He shares with God – an impossible level of intimacy, interdependence, and love. With very rare exception, we should move forward in our political discourse with a humbling degree of respect (maybe some fear?) for what Jesus seemed to want more than anything else.