the value in difference

I’m guilty. I judge. All the time.

I saw this guy the other day, walking with his young son, hand in hand, but his other hand was busy holding up his pants which were belted around his thighs as he walked in awkward outfacing steps to help keep his pants up. I understand that this is a style thing, but I’ve never understood it. I like to pride myself as practical, logical – and I could never imagine wearing anything that required one of my hands to hold it in position. If, as an article of clothing, it can’t stay where it’s supposed to, it’s not doing its job and I’ll take it off, throw it away and never buy anything like it again. So, of course, I mocked… “What’s this dude doing? How can he wear his pants like that?”

I know – I sound like my grandmother.

Almost immediately, I heard the small voice: “If it’s an issue of style, how can you say what is right or wrong, good or bad? What if that guy said the same about you? ‘What’s this guy doing with his beard? How inconvenient to have it all up in your food and when you kiss your wife and kids and when you accidentally zip it into your jacket!'” Well, if that guy had said those things to me, he would’ve been right. In many cases, my beard gets in the way, is really inconvenient. But I like it. I like the way it looks. I like that I have something to play with as I think about things, as I drive, probably even as I sleep. (Seriously, I can’t help it sometimes.)

Style then, like any opinion, is not open to judgment. What if I said I liked spaghetti? Would anyone say, “That’s ridiculous! How could you like that?!” It would clearly be strange for someone to question my taste in food. Yet, how much of our disdain, ridicule, mockery, and flat dislike of other people revolves around the difference in our taste of the world around us, the things we say that we like.

Taken a step further, why do I like spaghetti and my beard? Can I really even explain it? Why do I hate country music? Sure, there are cultural pressures and group identities to be taken into consideration, but mostly it’s because I simply don’t like it, never have. The first time I heard drum and bass, I loved it. The first time I heard Carrie Underwood, I had to cover my ears. The first time I tasted steak, I wanted more. The first time I tasted tofu, I tried to keep eating it, having heard that it was a good protein substitute, but I didn’t like the taste. Others, I’ve been told, do like the taste of tofu the first time they try it.

What about political differences? Aren’t these just related to taste? How people would like things to be – kind of like how they would like to eat their hamburger…

What about religious differences?
What about racial, cultural differences?
What about sexual preferences?

What about… all the things that divide us?

Certainly, I believe in truth. I believe that there are objective truths that exist beyond the perceptual understandings of our individual brains, hearts and minds. But how much of our difference revolves around that? I would argue – very little.

By judging a guy with pants around his thighs, I was reminded of the very real need for all of us Christians to recognize that these surface differences – and our negative reactions to the simply different tastes of others – are and should be of no real account. I may not be able to have an informed discussion with that guy about the different types of jeans that are worn best around the thighs, but that doesn’t mean that I should have any ill will toward him.

I think part of the problem is that we so closely identify with our likes and preferences that we often attach them to our identity. If I particularly enjoy hip-hop, go to concerts, wear t-shirts, write my own beats and lyrics – then I will identify with it. If you claim to hate hip-hop, then my natural reaction is to be insulted – if you hate it, and I identify with it, then – by proxy – you hate me and my lifestyle.

This is exactly what we need to avoid: tying our preferences to our identity, and judging (criticizing, evaluating) others’ identities and worth based on their expressed preferences.

It gets me thinking of denominational differences within the church. In the past, those differences were much more marked, and members within a given denomination were likely to assume that members of another were actually NOT Christians because of some minor disagreement over their preference in the practice of their religion. These days, that has been toned down a bit. But, I think, the remnants of that mindset reverberate to this day, like the dissipating tone of a gong. There is the temptation to undervalue other Christians because of a perceived difference in preference: need I mention the debate over organs or guitars in church?

I really need to apologize to the guy, though I’ll never see him again. I really need to see the pants around his thighs and feel nothing, as much as I feel nothing when I see someone with a red shirt instead of a shirt of some other color I prefer more. I need to appreciate the fact that others are different from me, and that’s a good thing, that’s by design. I need to understand that what God wants from me is not to impose my opinion of taste, style, or preference on others, but to understand that I am ordered, commanded to love others as I love myself, to respect the fact that God has created them differently, to truly internalize the fact that what is good for me is really not good for others, and it’s not a choice. From their first memories, they can recall an affinity for X, Y, and Z. And, from their first memories, they can recall a marked distaste for A, B, and C.

How is it my place to tell them what to like, how to worship, how to wear their jeans?

I strongly believe that it is God’s will for me to take people as they are, love them, and encourage them to continue their pursuit of God, of Jesus, of Faith, “for just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ” (1 Cor. 12:12). Because we are one body, we surely ought to appreciate that each part of the body must be its own, and not another, or the whole won’t work: two stomachs and no throat would starve the body to death. Lord, help me to see the value in difference.

nothing but God, everything with God

I have struggled recently.

As an educator, I live in an environment where activism is encouraged, bold plans are proposed, and the world is seen as open to change. Through a number of discoveries and conversations, I find my faith in that view as dwindling. The powered interests in the world are strong and they cling to their control as tightly as we faithful cling to God. Nevertheless, I have always held out the idea that with enough education, enough motivation, the right amount and quality of people, change could come – indeed, would come. It would be inevitable. We would advance through history two steps forward, one back (sometimes the reverse) – but always endeavoring to improve the world and make it fairer, more just, more harmonious.

That view is sometimes hard to maintain. Take climate change, peak oil, soil depletion, overpopulation, pollution, war, torture, slavery, poverty, corruption, loss of privacy, loss of dignity, consumerism, egotism, selfishness, etc. etc. — and it becomes almost impossible to view our world as one that can be redeemed.

I should not be surprised, though. We are promised in the scriptures that this world will fail by the hands of humankind. We will ruin it, sooner or later.

Am I faithless to hope that the interpretations of scripture are wrong? Am I acting out of worldliness or self-righteousness when I wake up and think that I can effect change in the world, real change? Is it wrong to think that I can?

I don’t think so. Why? Because it burns within me and I’ve asked God to take it from me. I have asked to not be burdened by what I see around me. I’ve asked to be blinded to the raging insensitivities of a world culture gone mad with lust for the next device, the next cutest thing, the next new fad. And yet I am confronted by it all the more. And I find these words in my mind, my mouth. Does God not desire justice? Are the weak, starving, voiceless, and pitiful of the world really supposed to be forgotten as we paste our eyes to the gorgeous people on our iPhones? Am I really supposed to blow the horn of patriotism while our country bombs innocent people and detains others without warrant? Am I really supposed to focus on only doing good to my neighbor while my neighbors in other countries are deprived of water because multinational corporations have stolen it?

Remember Jesus’s parable of the Good Samaritan. Remember that it was in response to someone asking “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus took a Samaritan (not his audience’s favorite kind of people) and contrasted him with other, more “respectable” types. In the end, who acted as the poor, robbed man’s neighbor? The only one who showed him kindness and pity: the Samaritan. What’s the point? It is our duty, as followers of Christ, to show compassion, to take action, to care for the downtrodden – everywhere. Not just next to us, but wherever we may meet them in the world.

James says it as well: the pure form of religion is to show compassion, to take care of orphans and widows – in other words, those who have a hard time taking care of themselves.

I have struggled recently. I have struggled to incorporate a view of God’s redemption with the utter brokenness and corruption of the systems around us. I have struggled to understand how so many Christians think they need a new X, Y, and Z when so many people around the world are suffering. I have struggled to understand how so many can stand aside and not engage the issues of the world when the consequences are so huge for so many people.

And I do not see the fight as useless, like so many of my fellow Christians do. I think there is a weakness within the church to confront the major problems of the society around us.  There is a complacency – to sit around and wait for God’s goodness to come in and rescue us. There’s a temptation to put up with the evil around us, to give in to its power and wait for God to do the work. In a way, I’m guilty as well. I fluctuate from active, involved, purposeful to disheartened, rejected, defeated. It’s so much easier to abandon the world, let it spin out and just enjoy the ride because I know that eternity cannot be tainted by the misery of earth, that my soul is secure with God.

Try as I might, though, I cannot see that message in the teachings of Jesus. I don’t see him saying, “Just relax and forget about all the evil out there. I’ll take care of it someday. Enjoy your latte. Watch your shows. Go ahead and buy that new carpet.”

No, he says, “In this world, you will have troubles, but take heart – for I have overcome the world.” He goes on: “Don’t fear. Don’t worry. I am with you.” But this “with” implies that I’m doing something God might want to be a part of, and I’m not too sure God cares about all the senseless stuff we fill our lives with.

I have struggled recently. I find myself at a tipping point. Do I conform myself to this world? Or do I strike out in bold action and really try to be the Good Samaritan? Do I want to mentally agree with the teachings of Jesus? Or do I want to go out there and live it, make the love happen?

There is nothing in this world that should capture our attention more than the words of Jesus. Like another parable: we are either the man building on rock, or the man building on shifting sand. There is nothing but God in this world for those of us who believe in Him and have given our lives over to Him. All our actions, then, must be focused on doing what God would have us do. Nothing but God, everything with Him.

How can that exclude caring about the starving children here and abroad? How can that overlook true human suffering? How can that include idleness and frivolity and surrender to the evil in the world? We must stand up and fight the evil systems and protect the helpless, in whatever form that takes. If God be for us, who could be against us?

evil in our faces

What do you do when the full weight of evil hits you – when you are stunned by its presence, by its manifestations?

My wife has the good fortune to have a job in the medical field as it provides us with good health insurance. One unfortunate downside to this is that she often schedules appointments for children who have suffered some injury as a result of abuse, physical and sexual.

It’s one thing to say that we believe in the goodness of God, that we believe people are good and can be good with the help of an indwelling Christ. It’s another thing to have to see the evil so clearly present, so clearly malicious, and have to watch the damage that it causes in the lives of good – or at least unsuspecting – victims. When the victims are children, though, and when your main preoccupation is raising your own children in this cruel world, it can be too much.

It is far too easy for us parents to internalize the evil we see around us, to transfer it, imagine our children as the victims. Far too easy, I say, because our parental minds are geared toward protectionism. We have seen the innocence of our children, seen their most tender, vulnerable moments. And to think of someone preying on them, victimizing them, abusing them, using them for their own evil … I can’t really complete the sentence. It is horrible. Our parent minds can’t take it in, and we reject all clemency for the abusers. I’ve heard that the most despised people in jail for the inmate population are the child abusers.

And something in us cheers that, right? We all jump in, chime in, condemn them for abusing the innocents. And I should say rightfully so… except…

Except we are all the abusers. Search your heart, your mind, your memory and you will find a time when you harbored evil. Perhaps you didn’t act on it, but you plotted for a time, you schemed a bit. Maybe playfully (or at least you’ll tell yourself that), maybe with no real intent to act, but you did. I have. I’m not going to go into details because I’m embarrassed. All of us will be very hesitant to admit that our minds have gone there, have sought the evil. And I say “our minds” because that’s the way it felt to me. I was caught off guard by the fact that my mind had gone there, was dwelling in these evil thoughts, but I hadn’t really intended it. Now, my evil thoughts didn’t involve innocent babies, young children, but they involved people, God’s children. And, tell me, is an abuse against one of God’s children to be considered greater than an abuse against another of God’s children because of the age of the soul involved? We are all God’s children. Your abuse against any person is an abuse against God’s child.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t be horrified. I am. I can’t believe some of the things that are shown on the news. I have to rush to mute it because I, first of all, don’t want to hear it, and, second of all, don’t want my wife and kids to hear it. I swear, as soon as the clock turns 6 or 11 and the “news” breaks in, I lunge for the remote, almost covering my ears.

But, I’m no head-in-the-sand man either. I’m pretty well-informed of the evil of the world. But when it touches someone so close to me, or when it even gets to me, I don’t really know what to do. I lose hope, I condemn, I cry, I shake my head in anger, frustration, disappointment. I wonder aloud to God “How can you let this happen?” He doesn’t answer. After all, is He responsible for my bad choices? Why should He be for theirs?

I do know this, though: The evil I am so quick to condemn in others is (or at the very least, has been) present in my heart as well. Perhaps not the same evil, but that’s a lot like comparing different kinds of salt – once tasted, it’s easily recognizable for what it is. Evil is evil no matter where it comes from or where it is directed.

When children are abused my heart aches for their broken little hearts, minds, and bodies. I pray desperately that God would somehow redeem the evil and make it into Good. But I often forget (because I want to think I’m better than they are?) to pray for the abusers. As Christians, we are called to love our enemies. What clearer enemy do I have than someone who would seek to do my children harm?

my jesus

My Jesus is not the same as the one in the New Testament. My Jesus speaks English. He understands what it feels like to be stuck in traffic. He gets how complex international politics are. He could use a microwave no problem because, of course, my Jesus is alive and well. He knows everything about our contemporary society. He is not limited to first century Palestine and Hebrew custom. He walks the earth with each of us, all day, every day.

My Jesus doesn’t argue politics. He’s decidedly one-sided: seek God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your strength. Politics just confuse the issue.

My Jesus doesn’t care about the status of my bank account, the quality of my closet. He is decidedly wary of money and our very human concern about the gathering of it, the lusting after it. I doubt so much that he cares that I have credit card debt – though, like any concerned family member, he would probably prefer I didn’t have it. That said, I wonder what he thinks of the state of our world economy, based as it is on speculation and exploitation, profit at all cost. My Jesus isn’t too happy when I’m consumed by consumerism. He prefers a simple life, free of the distraction I so often chase after. He’s kind when he admonishes me, but he gives me that look – like I should know better.

My Jesus is as nice as they come, welcoming any who would really wish to get to know him. But those that approach him with mockery or loaded questions, he’s very accustomed to dealing with shrewdly. He will not be taken or had; he’s no simple fool.

My Jesus is the smartest man who’s ever lived. He has smiled at each of our “discoveries,” as a proud parent would when the children finish the maze, or solve the puzzle. To the eyes of the Genius, the answer was plain all along.

My Jesus is not pedantic. He doesn’t talk down to us or mock us for our feebleness. He’s our biggest supporter, the firmest believer in the possibilities within us. He awakens my interests, quickens my mind to passion, buries thoughts within me that takes weeks to come to form. He is the source of all inspiration, the fountain of life and knowledge, wisdom and peace – yet he comes as a helper, not a conqueror. No, my Lord doesn’t lord it over us.

My Jesus is patient. Though he is the perfect man, his patience is unhuman – it comes from his divinity. It is unlike anything we know. He suffers as he waits for us to come to him, time and again, for it is against him that we sin, not others. It is him we slander when we speak ill of our neighbors, him we despise when we hate our enemies. And through it all – all our vain, malicious, disruptive, abusive, selfish, and self-serving thoughts and actions, and through so much more, through all history -through it all, he keeps his arms open to us, ready to dismiss it all when we utter our apologies. Tell me of a patience this side of heaven that matches his!

My Jesus sometimes takes a break. I’m not sure why, but he leaves me sometimes. C.S. Lewis (in The Screwtape Letters, I believe) said something to the effect that we are most dangerous when we stand and believe and obey when there is no trace of him around: it is to be seen as a sign of trust, of guidance, of training our character. I’m not sure. But he always comes back and he seems to be clearer or bigger or stronger each time.

Finally, my Jesus is mine. You cannot tell me who he is, what he means to me, what he speaks to me. I know him. Do you?

 

what’s wrong with “for God and Country”?

Maybe you’ve seen the bumper sticker (or one like it): For God and Country. Maybe you’ve seen it on the news, in political debates, at church, in your friends’ home, in your home.

I have to say I’m continually surprised by Christians who maintain that we should support our government no matter what: no matter if it invades another country, denies help to the poor, leads innocent people to their deaths. They tend to believe and say things that make it seem as if the two things were synonymous, or – at the very least – working in tandem for the good of the Christian faithful in our country. It’s from these people that you tend to hear historical arguments of what the “Founding Fathers” had in mind when they framed the Constitution (overlooking, neglecting, or ignoring the fact that a lot of the early framers of our country were not Christians but Theists).

Strangely – and perhaps reserved for another post – they’ll also throw in guns (as if Jesus was a firm believer in their interpretation of the Second Amendment.)

This attitude surprises me because I see no basis for it in Scripture. They’ll cite Romans 13 as proof that God installs the leadership of the countries around the world and that we are forced to obey their mandates. This argument, while certainly outlined in the New Testament, overlooks the fact that many of the writers of the New Testament were, in fact, breaking the law themselves as they practiced, preached, and developed their new religion. Paul himself (tradition tells us) was killed for supposedly breaking some misguided Roman law (or at least for trespassing against some authority who took offense to him). Jesus broke the “law.” John the Baptist offended the “authorities” of his time and was killed. Nearly every prophet the world has ever known has struggled with the “authorities” of his or her time, only to be recognized as heroic in later times.

Outside of the passage in Romans (which seems to be misinterpreted based on the evident actions of the early church), I don’t see any provision whereby we are commanded to obey our political overlords, much less trust them to enact what we see as moral behavior and justice, especially in a world that would have been hard to conceive for the New Testament writers – one of liberal, representative democracies.

To those who unquestioningly support the USA, I have one question: Where do you place your trust? Do you place it in “the world” that is so often derided for lacking faith, for corruption, for abuse of power, or do you place your faith in God above – free and clear of the “sin” and filth of this world, trustworthy, eternally good, Creator of us all?

I can hear a possible response: But Christians founded this country, escaping religious persecution, that we might have a free place to practice our religion. That foundation must be protected, must be supported for all people of the world. I concede that I thoroughly enjoy the fact that I can practice my religion freely here. That is a great thing and freedom of religion should absolutely be supported. But it is not unique in the world. Many other governments guarantee that right (in fact, it is the accepted, worldwide norm). So while that argument may have held some water in the late 1700’s, it certainly doesn’t tout any extraordinary exceptionalism of our government in the modern world.

Another possible response might be that we are a Christian nation. I hate to burst bubbles here, but we are not, in any sense, a Christian nation. Look around you and the evidence is clear: do you see the fruits of the Spirit, or do you see the fruits of selfishness, of the flesh (Galatians 5)? Take a minute, consult your Bible. Which do you see around you? No doubt, some mixture of both, especially if you are engaged in an active Christian community. Even outside of Christian circles, we can see there is some evidence of the Spirit. Yet I think most of us would agree that there is much more of the fruit of selfish desires: symptoms of a culture, of a system, that has given itself over to worldliness.

What makes Americans think that the American Government would be exempt from corruption? I won’t go into the long list of instances that prove our government is or has been corrupted, but I’ll just name a few: Wall Street, Iraq, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo Bay. If any of these don’t raise a flag for you, I suggest you do some research and find out what is verifiable, sanctioned abuse/torture/manipulation prohibited by the legal systems we so wholeheartedly support (presumably). The fact that we aren’t clamoring, every day, for our federal government to obey its own rules shows that there is a breakdown of governance. You can cite all the real-world contingencies that may (arguably) make such extreme measures necessary for the protection of the American people, but you cannot jive the accounts of those places, those actions with the claim that America is a Christian nation. It is impossible. If we are a Christian nation, then Christianity is something I want no part of. I don’t want to steal money from those who need it and give to those who don’t. I don’t want to torture people on suspicion. I don’t want to endorse preemptive strikes on countries we “suspect” have some evil plans. I don’t want to humiliate anyone because they have been labeled as my “enemy.”

Which brings me to the clearest contradiction of the state and our faith: What did Jesus command us to do to our enemies? And what do we do instead? Tell me that isn’t a clear sign that world governments, ours included, do not, ever, practice what our religion commands us to do.

I hear another argument rising from my opposition: Jesus taught us, as individuals, to live. He did not tell us how to live corporately. This brings me to my next point.

I doubt that Jesus cared too much about politics, about forms of government. Clearly, if the Son of God wanted to describe the ideal political organization to his followers, he could have. He could have outlined every facet of government (much like what was given to Moses in the Old Testament, whose failure many have cited is why the New Testament is needed at all) and instructed the people to organize themselves thus. But he didn’t. Why not? Because human political arrangement is not involved with the sanctification of our souls. Whatever the form of government of any land, any individual residing in that locale can choose to follow Christ. Now, of course, some systems of government allow for greater freedom of expression which we should clearly endorse if we are to spread the gospel of Jesus. But that certainly doesn’t mean that I am somehow obligated to support any one government or type of government: Christianity sometimes grows fastest under the most dangerous circumstances.

What is difficult for me to understand is why any of us would choose to dilute the message of a perfect kingdom, of a perfect savior to this broken world by implying that there is a human vehicle that can get us there as well. How weird would it be to say “For God and Comedy Clubs” or “For God and Little League Baseball”? Both of these are human institutions. Both of them may actually produce something good for the kingdom and for our world. However, clearly it is ridiculous. We would immediately see “Hey, there may be good things going on there, but those aren’t ‘Christian institutions.'” Of course, they aren’t. How do we know? By their fruit, by their aims. The same is true for our government.

Though we may have Christian leaders and policies and laws based on Christian ethics, we are not a Christian nation. And the danger in blindly, resolutely supporting the unethical actions of our government, while claiming that it is based on Christian principles, is that we have robbed the gospel of its strength. The gospel portrays a truth that is not found on this earth, that contradicts, overwhelms, and conquers the “wisdom” and “knowledge” of the world. The result of this contradiction is often a struggle to mythologize our government to make it seem holier than it is, or to debase our religion to make it conform to earthly wisdom. If we state that America is God’s Special Country, and we recognize that America has held some prisoners for years without trial, without conviction, in a secret military base on an island of a declared enemy (i.e., Guantanamo and Cuba), engaging in torture and other inhumane acts against people who should be considered “innocent until proven guilty” – whom our government would label as “enemy combatants” (remember what Jesus says about enemies)… what does that say about God’s preference for countries? Surely, we are a place where freedoms matter, where the majority of people will fight to preserve basic human dignities, but can we truly say that our government’s will is always aligned with our God’s, or that God, in His infinite wisdom, chooses to overlook some of our nation’s sins because they’re not as bad as some others’? That is not the God we know from the Bible, not the God that Jesus showed us. He forgives indeed, but He shows no preference. In fact, he prefers the man who beats his chest and says “I am a sinner” – not the man who stands up and brags about how good he is. (Just what do you think “God Bless America” communicates to people in other countries except that we think we deserve God’s approval more than others for our “right” actions?)

Man cannot taint God’s kingdom, and thank God for that. That is our faith, by the way. We trust in the eternal because we cannot trust the temporal. Live long enough, and you’ll be let down by every person you trust, every institution you believe in (including the Church), and everything on this Earth (including ourselves). We want heaven because it is not here. We honor God because He is capable of making changes we cannot. We love Jesus because he left perfection and took on the dirt and grime of human systems to show us a path to something better, over and above every human-made institution.

We may have a great country, no doubt – capable of great feats, hero of past wars – but it is not a Christian one. There has never been, nor will there ever be, a nation which lives out the Christian message perfectly. No human system will ever reach God, because if it could, we would not need God. We can love this country (or any country), but let us never make the mistake of equating it with God or thinking that somehow God should favor us. Let us never believe in a god so fickle as to prefer one sinner over another.

The world cannot accept the Spirit of God because it neither sees him nor knows him, but we do. We see the world with eyes that don’t trust it, that recognize a great divide between the way we as individuals and communities should act, and the way we actually do. If you’re a Christian, then you know that sin is in you, in me, in us. Any system we make will be sinful. And if we glorify a sinful human system (no matter how small the sin is in relation to other systems of its kind), we worship idols, because they do not lead to God. They are dead, not eternal – carved from human hands, relics of human minds – in a word, ungodly. “For God and Country” is the same as serving two masters, which Jesus explicitly told us we cannot do.

love and politics

Politically, I tend toward the left – sometimes extremely left, other times only a little so. My Christian parents and many of my Christian friends tend toward the right. This situation can cause a bit of tension, especially in times of political turmoil in the US (such as the current situation). Here, I will contend that it shouldn’t.

Of course, this is something that is intuitive as a Christian – we all know we are commanded to love. But honestly tell me that you haven’t ever avoided another Christian because of some very strong difference of opinion, that you haven’t secretly (or even not so secretly) criticized so-and-so for their horribly mistaken views – instead, thinking they’ve been influenced by whatever leader of whatever party with whatever sinister, abhorrent agenda. Maybe you’ve even cut off communications with another over some dispute. If you can honestly say you haven’t ever done any of that, you’re good. Quit reading.

As a practice, I try to hold my identity as a Christian above all other ways of identifying or labeling myself. I think that’s what we need to do as a body. I think that can help us to achieve the “unity” the New Testament writers so often discuss.

Of course, it would have been impossible for them to imagine our present-day world, where democracies are becoming the norm, where individual freedoms the law – where each of us is expected (in honor of the sacrifices of earlier generations) to voice our opinion on many aspects of our civil society’s arrangement. Nevertheless, consider Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” I get the sense they have presupposed equality, where each person (and therefore his/her opinion) is to be honored, respected, valued, and cherished – for we all comprise the priesthood (1 Peter 2:9). Many of the important decisions of the early church seem to have been made as a community with the apostles as the moderators. The gospels even show Jesus’s consideration for the inherent value of all people as he approached those who were, in the eyes of the priestly elite, unapproachable. He saw them as they truly were: sons and daughters of his Father, the Creator.

So, to the title of this post.

I think what often divides Christians politically is our different ideas of love: how the political right and left think Christian love should be enacted in the world.

Do we bring a tough love and punish those who break the law – opening their eyes to the law of God that has been broken and the real need to get right with God? or do we bring a soft love and encourage them to change their ways – hoping to model the tenderness of Jesus to the oppressed? Do we prohibit actions because they are inherently sinful, which means they are destructive to all around us and should be prevented by saints in action? or do we observe the sin that happens, the guilt that sets in, and share the healing nature of Jesus with the sinful and repentant soul?

It seems clear to me that God, who brought all things together from time immemorial to time everlasting has allowed a variety of opinion on the nature of how love is to be shown. Perhaps it is this variegated experience of love which gives it such fullness and depth.

As a father of three-year-old, boy/girl twins, I know that there are times when I choose to show my love as contingent upon their right action. If my son hits my daughter, I must disapprove of the action, withdrawing my tenderness until he has apologized and asked for his sister’s forgiveness. There must be boundaries in our house. Every parent knows this. If there are no boundaries, the children will surely injure themselves or each other, ruin the plumbing, thaw the freezer – all affecting their livelihood and health. Thus, boundaries absolutely show love. They presuppose that we sometimes can’t control ourselves (i.e., that, taken on the whole, there will always be pernicious elements in our population), and that someone else who is wiser must be looking after us to keep us in line. (“in line” with what is a matter for a different post.) This shows love because it shows ultimate concern. It cuts through all the diluted messages of the world and gives its full power of character, of truth, of reality, of law. In my example, it shows my son that there is a rule of respect for the bodies of others, an essential value in a free world of free sons and daughters of God.

On the other hand, there are times when a boundary is broken and the appropriate response is immediate sympathy and tenderness and understanding of the gravity of sin – when they just know that they’ve done wrong and they legitimately feel bad about it. We come alongside, count ourselves among the guilty, and commiserate – often with quiet presence, plain words, and embrace. There must be understanding to help guide the broken heart (even if it has yet to break – for it surely will), to ensure they feel welcomed into a community that doesn’t judge because we too are guilty and convicted. They need to feel such a love – there can be no doubt. An unconditional love reflective of the love God has extended us.

I will assume then, that the love we should model to the world is the kind of love among a family – the kind of love my kids show me when I apologize for losing my temper. “Of course I forgive you” in the recent words of my daughter, “You’re my best big daddy.”

Now, the metaphor is flawed because the political division I am discussing doesn’t have the power imbalance of the family situation: a father and his kids. It is rather like quarreling siblings.

When Jesus calls us his brothers and sisters, and when he refers to God as the Father, it seems clear that he considers us as siblings to each other. And the love he models is the unconditional love of a family.

So when it comes to political division among his family here on earth, his body, we must be quick to recognize the obstacle and quick to love. How? It seems clear that there must be concerted humility regarding our opinions of organization. Opinions must be stated clearly without distortion or interference, questions asked, thoughts considered, and all must have a say. When the vote is taken or the debate has been resolved, all must believe in the process and commit to love in action. Thus, the defeat of an opinion must not be accompanied by dishonor, distrust, or discord.

Clearly, this is impossible to enact all the time. It is reserved for heaven, for perfection. But the attitude of the heart willing to extend familial love to other Christians despite any division that may arise must be every Christian’s primary commitment to his/her fellow Christians. Indeed, it is the love and message we are commanded to show the world, not only our own family. But how can that message be shown to the world when it is often not shown within the family?

I often struggle to keep my peace with Christians who confront me with those political issues they feel define Christianity. They have a sort of litmus test with their issues, and if I don’t quite agree, the stain is shown and I cease to be a “real” Christian. Instead, I’ve been tainted by progressive thinking or culture or the slow erosion of moral values or my own intellect or pride. They neglect to mention other Christian values that are not expressed in the laws of the land – laws to which they may have no objection. I don’t doubt their religious sincerity because of my objection to their politics, yet somehow they doubt mine because of their objection.

It is frustrating. This post is as much for me as any. I am guilty of sending snarky, biting political messages and comments on social media that most likely offend many in my Christian family. I try hard to limit my content to informative articles, but the mockery of an opinion I oppose often seeps in. I need to be mindful, again, of my primary allegiance, our primary allegiance if we call ourselves Christians. If we do, it is the Lord’s clearest command, echoing through the ages: Love each other. Love each other as I loved you. As a family. As one who will forgive anything, bridge any divide, to get to you, to be with you.

Never should such petty opinions about such passing things of the world get in the way of my message of love, of The Love, that has come to us. Our unity must glow with the fusion of our love, connected, supported, made stronger in numbers, in community. That is the message I need to hear as I continue to get bombarded by the opinions of the world, of the happenings, of the ridicule, mockery, and slander. I need to focus on and nurture the pure message of love. Treat others as I wish to be treated. And Jesus whispers “Love them like I love you…”