At a recent screening of the documentary film Hellbound, I had a question for the director. I raised my hand and, nervous of the crowd around me, identified myself as an Evangelical Christian. “But I’m a Democrat who lives in San Francisco,” I was quick to add. In other words: “I’m not like them! I’m not like the crazy people who picket funerals or believe the earth was created in six 24-hour days.”
And while all that is true–in terms of where my beliefs line up–I found myself cringing at my own response afterwards.
About a year ago, I wrote a piece for Her.meneutics responding to a popular video in which a young Christian poet claimed to “hate religion but love Jesus.” And while I understood what he meant, I argued that this was a false dichotomy. The organization of Jesus’ people under the authority of the church (“religion”) is a really good thing. And it has also done tragic and brutal damage in the name of Christ. But holding the bad in tension with the good is part of the call of the Christian life. (Even when the bad appears to be from God–as Job reminds us.) And what I wrote then remains true today:
“We do not get to separate ourselves from the Church, as Christians. We do not get to claim non-religiosity simply to fit in, or to feel better about ourselves. As a friend of mine put it, to say that you love Jesus but hate religion is akin to saying you love your best friend but hate his wife. That relationship will not last.”
So, why was I so quick to throw caveat after caveat at my identification as an Evangelical Christian? I think the answer is fairly simple: In that moment, I cared as much about what the group of San Francisco moviegoers thought of me as I did about identifying with my rich, messy, sometimes shameful theological community. I’m not sure whether it was the right thing to do, though I had reason to believe that identifying as an Evangelical Christian in that community was unpopular. First of all, Evangelicals in America have a pretty bad reputation, not undeservedly so. We have become more known for what we are against—gay marriage, abortion, fun—that what we are for has been drowned out. This group of people so concerned about opening up the possibility of a personal relationship with a good God has often been its own worst enemy, and I do not want to put myself outside of this group simply because it has done some things I disagree with. Secondly, by many accounts San Francisco is the least Christian city in the country.
Some people laughed in the theater when I gave my introductory caveat, and I appreciated the knowing smiles and nods that came my way. It is a messy business, being part of any tradition, because someone, somewhere along the way, has screwed up or said something I disagree with. It’s like that other odd institution, the family, in which we have little influence on the actions of those closest to us, but we still love them, we still share the same name. And then there are my own mistakes; the things I say and do that don’t represent the rest of my tradition in the best possible way. At those times, I hope for grace and forgiveness and people who will move forward with me.
I care a good deal about what other people think of me. It isn’t all bad, but that desire to be thought well of too often leads me down roads of disassociation that aren’t where I really want to go. I want to stand with my brothers and sisters throughout the entirety of the Christian tradition, mistakes and kindnesses blended together, so that we might be truthful people who can move into God’s kingdom together. No stones cast, those days, only peace. Only unity.
When I was on the Urban Program in San Francisco, one of the professors (Dr. Karen Andrews) taught us about using “and” instead of “but.” That simple switch has felt very profound to me. I am an Evangelical Christian AND a Democrat. I am a stay at home mom AND a feminist. I buy organic AND crave Diet Coke. That “and” has felt more inclusive and reflective of the sovereignty of God over all my mismatched parts.
i appreciate your thoughts on this area Laura -the American Christian in hard transition, and it’s absolutely needed to get us, as individuals, away from the herd mentality and closer to Christ-likeness, which should be the heart’s desire all along. The American church system is hugely flawed w/it’s made-up rules, dogma, hierarchy, business model behavior, egos, controlling, judging- there really need to be more voices challenging all that while encouraging an honest Christ model individually and in American culture. Your angst of feeling guilt for having to be identified w/such a large group of what most of the population sees as unloving hypocrites is very honest. I’m ashamed to have my core belief seen to be shared by that demographic, too. But, there’s I Cor.4:1-5 to console us, as we engage and endeavor to be an agent of change for the honest life of Christ, comforted that ALL judgements, including ours and except for his (and his are forgiven us), all are flawed and skewed.
sorry, that was my maiden name
While I believe in the need for unity among Christians, it is difficult for me to side with those ‘Christians’ who fight against the good (in terms of caring for the ‘Other’), against the true (in terms of science generally, and climate control specifically) and against the beautiful (in terms of the moral insight of R-rated movies) while be requested by those in the church to be against those ‘outsiders’ who have a passion for the good, the true, and the beautiful. Just because someone is a Repulican and believes in the inerrancy of the Bible does not mean that person is a Christian. I think that we have gotten confused about the definition of a Christian, and being religious does not in and of itself count for anything, especially in the eyes of Go(“these people honor me with their lips but their hearts are far from me”)
Great post! As I was reading, I was thinking how appropriate it is to call the church our “church family” – and then you made the same point! We don’t get to choose the family we are born into, and when we are born into life with Jesus we also don’t get to choose our participation in the church family. What we can do is be gentler, more loving Christians, and take back the name of Christianity for what it was meant to be – followers of a loving Christ.
I really appreciated your thoughtfulness. I find myself often making that same mistake of distancing so nobody thinks me crazy. And yet, too, am drawn back to the wonder of a family (the family of God) so beautifully put together by His supernatural grace. And I also realize that there are times when I don’t represent well and someone may wish to distance from me. This is indeed grace. Thank you.