This weekend my newsfeed was either full of photos of women marching or long rants criticizing the women who marched. Divisiveness it seems, is the rule for the day. Even when we choose not to participate in something we must explain to everyone who did why they are clearly wrong. Jesus must be really proud of us.
Of course, the marches drew their own kind of lines in the sand. I was disheartened to learn that women who held pro-life beliefs were not as welcomed to join as those who are pro-choice. Even Gloria Steinem got in on the action, making it clear that you weren’t allowed to join the feminist club if you didn’t share her beliefs on that subject. Look out ladies, glass ceiling here we come!
I would write Ms. Steinem a missive about the courageous, not-to-be-trifled-with, Jesus-loving women I know who happen to be pro-life. I would tell her that they would stand with their feminist sisters and work for equal wages, fight systemic prejudice, and help impoverished children everywhere. But I wrote her a letter once and she never wrote me back.
Besides, I’m too tired. I hosted a church party this weekend, my kindergartener was in a bad mood this morning, and I have a mountain of laundry to fold. #reallifefeminism
I once heard a story of a young pastor who was complaining to the senior pastor about a colleague they shared. “He’s terrible!” the young guy said, “Does he even know what he’s talking about?” To which the older man responded, “We’re all just trying to explain something that cannot be explained.”
This is a kind of cultural (and frankly religious) heresy these days. We all have the right answers, and we cannot figure out why everyone else is an idiot. I wish I could place my hope in an agenda. But I find only anger and despair when I seek an answer on this earthly plane.
So here I am, Monday morning, placing my hope, again, in Jesus.
I can no longer stand comfortably on one side of the line or the other. Which is really saying something, because I love lines of declaration. Every year when the rodeo comes to Texas, there is a lady who stands in the petting zoo and just keeps yelling at children, “DO NOT GET TOO CLOSE.” I would do that job for free.
And yet, God has placed us here, close together. And he loved us so much that he came to live among us in fatal proximity. Jesus sought out a tax collector and an adulterous woman and said, “You are my people.” He told parables about a God who is entirely unfair. His lines were clearly drawn with a heaven in mind that our human discord is totally unable to recognize.
And perhaps that is precisely the point.
We hardly ever read the Gospel story and see ourselves as the character of moral failure. We say we want to, God knows. And we may even preach sermons that suggest this “humble” mode of thinking.
But as much as we long identify with the Tax Collector, beating his chest, and praying, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” we are much more likely to be the judgmental Pharisee, chastising whoever disgusts us. As much as we would like to identify with the Woman at the Well, with her powerful testimony about Jesus, “He told me everything I ever did,” we are so much more likely to be the disciples who questioned Jesus as to why he would ever talk to such a sinner.
It is on Mondays like today that I’m grateful God looks at all of us and sees a whole crop of tax collectors and adulterers. How we feel about the Gospel is not really the point, praise the Lord. God saves us from ourselves and the lines that we insist on drawing, even today.
Of course, there was that one line drawn between God and his people. The one he crossed–out of undying love for those on the other side. You and me, that is, wherever we may stand (or fall) this week or next.
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18 responses to “Lines of Discord and Lines of Love”
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Cracked up at the petting zoo lady
I don’t think that Madonna was necessarily being Pharisaical in her moral indignation, nor do I think that those who condemn her are necessarily Pharisaical. Having strong moral convictions and being passionate about them is part of being made in God’s image, even if that image is always flawed and twisted to some degree by self-interest and self-righteousness. That doesn’t mean that we can never legitimately condemn the evil we see in the other. Jesus, and later Paul, Peter and of course our favorite whipping boy, James, all did so with gusto. In some ways it seems far more honest, and even more open to real gritty love, to say let’s just all let it rip, Madonna style, than to take an “above the fray” position that sees all conflict as unseemly, unloving and ungodly. This is because love binds and heals the inevitable wounds of this world’s battles; it does not prevent them.
I don’t disagree with Michael Cooper, especially that last line- I love that! I do agree with Sarah too. Moral indignation, for me, becomes a life-style and less of a spirit-guided conviction, part of my personal self-justification project. There is no shortage of actual things to be morally indignant about, justifiably so, which saturates my thinking. The way my heart operates is to see myself as a Nathan and almost never as a David…except when he’s slinging rocks at giants.
Sarah, I am so proud of you and very impressed with this post! I just finished reading your wonderful book and was equally impressed with that masterpiece. I have been telling everyone in Aiken that I have actually met you–this has given me a whole new status in South Carolina!
God bless you, your family and your ministry!
Dale Klitzke. (Rowan and Ben’s Papa)
I was truly sorry to hear that many pro-life women did not feel that they could march on Saturday. I marched in DC and would have been glad to walk with them. It was a peaceful and even hopeful event. A range of issues were represented, including climate change, income inequality, and issues pertaining to systemic racism. I liked Fr. James Martin’s point that pro-life Catholic nuns marched anyways in NYC for justice, peace, and life, and that advocacy requires both being in the mix and being willing to mix it up with people who think differently from you.
So I have a question, which I have wanted to ask on this site since election day. I’ll preface by saying that I love Mockingbird. Hearing the message of grace again and again is lifesaving. And I recognize that we are all sinners in desperate need of God’s grace- me, Donald Trump, and Barack Obama alike.
However, does that mean that as Christians, we never actively call out or stand against the President when he is acting against the interests of the common good? As one important example, he is clearly not committed to addressing climate change thus far, yet here we are having another weirdly warm winter, coming off of the hottest year on record for the third time in a row. What does that mean for us as Christians when we consider the incredible gifts that God has lovingly given us in His creation?
I realize that I’m not about to save the world from anything, climate change included. Only Jesus can and will do that, praise God. But I also don’t see it as an either-or situation. I can both trust the grace of God and respond to injustice, knowing that my efforts are limited and I’ll need to ask forgiveness along the way. Anyways, would appreciate thoughts on this. Thank you.
I love this whole question. My point for response is always “We love because he first loved us” (at least on my good days). And so, out of that great love can come great response. Is that protest for the marginalized? Is it prayer? Is it “help me God, I am afraid?” It could be any or all of those. Is it always a recognition of our own hand at work in the fallen-ness of the world? For sure.
If, as Americans, we feel the need to protest, then have at it. But I worry when we bring Jesus into our “stance.”
I worry about adding to the Christian narrative of “leading a charge” against X person. We just don’t have much evidence of Jesus doing that. Period. The end. In fact, what we do see evidence of is Jesus responding with great anger to the money changers in the temple. Which leads me to two thoughts:
1. We are not Jesus.
2. When politics come profoundly into the church, are we modern day money changers? Exchanging our own self-justification for the world’s righteous approval?
I suppose none of this answers your question. But its a question worthy of an attempt.
Thank you for the thoughtful responses! I really appreciate it.
My moral indignation and self-justification have plateaued at an all-time high since the day that Trump announced his candidacy. It would serve me well to sit with this a little more. I probably/definitely think that I have more than I actually have.
And at the same time, I think of Dr. King or even Bonhoeffer (sorry to bring Nazi Germany into this, not advocating the Trump/Hitler comparison, just an example that comes to mind). I have no idea how self-justified they felt through their own actions at the end of every day. I sure would have in their shoes. But they did manage to help a whole lot of people by bringing the church into their politics.
Again, thank you for the responses. I’ve never met you, Sarah, but I am grateful your writing, including your new book.
I find Luther’s Two Kinds of Righteousness cathartic for these sort of questions. http://www.mcm.edu/~eppleyd/luther.html … and when that too leaves me feeling… stuck, I turn to another famous Luther quote: Sin Boldly! Thanks for your wonderful and thoughtful comment to a well-written article.
I didn’t see the SNL skit and didn’t watch this clip (haven’t watched in years). Just wondering if the liberal gals on SNL are aware that SBA was pro-life??
“Guilty? Yes no matter what the motive, love of ease, or desire to save from suffering the unborn innocent, the woman is awfully guilty who commits the deed. It will burden her conscience in life, it will burden her soul in death; but oh! Thrice guilty is he who, for selfish gratification, heedless of her prayers, indifferent to her fate, drove her to the desperation which impels her to the crime.”
You should watch it! That’s the joke!
MLK a money changer?
No Michael. Not MLK.
But me for sure. I definitely am.
I’m sure that you are sincere in your humility, but that doesn’t really address the issue of whether a Christian or the church should ever engage in political action. Any engagement with this world will of course be flawed by our sin, as all of life is, including marriage, having children, having non-church jobs in the world, but that doesn’t mean we don’t do those things, and mix Jesus up in all of them.
I love the eighth paragraph!!! So much. If you get that petting zoo job I’ll take your weekends. Thanks.
“Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them…”
Perhaps a bit relevant to this current trend, which also involves a confusion of hype for hope (stolen from Michael Horton).
Ted Peters book on Luther’s “Sin Bodly” does a good job of encouraging each of us to live and love in response to our freedom granted in Christ, while also cautioning that our sin will still yield hypocrisy as we daily insist on judging good and evil. If only we could each better recall the significance of that little tree’s name!
I am certainly not a “culture warrior” and Dylan’s “With God on Our Side” is my national anthem, but a view that any effort to distinguish good and evil outside ones own heart, and to speak out as a Christian against evil in the world, is somehow self-righteousness and against the “gospel” seems to be its own peculiar form of solipsistic arrogance. But we also have to realize that politically we have no absolute answers, if we have answers at all.
I don’t recall advocating that one should sit on his hands. Sorry if I gave that impression.
It’s in our human nature to want to be right, and to be on the right side, probably a deeply ingrained survival instinct, but also a component of self-pride. It sounds trite, but a maxim I try to follow is to focus not on who is right but what is right. The only one who is right, all of the time, in every circumstance, and on every issue, is Jesus. When confronted by an issue, we have a tendency to wade right in, start thrashing about, and then look back to make sure Jesus is with us. We assume he expects us to take stands on his behalf, and that assumption leads to discord within the body, as we certainly do not have perfect understanding and therefore do not all agree on where to stand. If we stop substituting our wisdom for his, perhaps we would be content to wait on him and not feel we must take positions that polarize those he wants to gather to himself.