Our family dinner was punctuated by a phone call.
I know, I know.
I ought to turn my phone off during dinner, but back when I was working as a pastor in a local church, I used to feel guilty for not being available to my flock 24 hours a day.
“I’ll just take this call,” I said apologetically to my wife, who rolled her eyes at the all too familiar scenario.
“Hello, this is Dan,” I said cordially.
“Pastor Dan!” It was one of the ladies from church. “I’m glad I caught you. I am calling you because the Lord has put it on my heart to let you know that I disagreed with your sermon on Sunday. I’ve been praying about it, and I just had to tell you,” explained the voice on the other end.
What followed was a twenty-minute spiel on how my theology was incorrect, my words poorly-chosen and my message lost in din of my doctrinal deficiency. Fortunately, my well-meaning sister-in-Christ was gracious enough to correct my false teaching and extend the hand of forgiveness.
“You’re only young! You are still learning!” She said — dripping with condescension. Then, satisfied that she had made good on the Lord’s instructions, faithfully administering loving Christian discipline, she wrapped up the call, leaving me thoroughly crestfallen and dismayed.
I wish I could tell you this kind of Christian behavior was an anomaly — a glaring exception to the rule — but I can’t. Sadly, Christians do a lot of things, “in the name of love,” that aren’t really all that loving.
Correcting everyone else’s doctrine
I write about religion, spirituality and Christianity a lot. Almost without exception, every time I post something, some Christian is offended by my apparently poor doctrine or the way I interpret the Bible slightly differently to them. Some of them see it as their Christian responsibility to correct me and will send me very long responses explaining how wrong I am. Sometimes the responses are even longer than my blog posts.
I feel honored that people invest so much of their time responding to me! To be fair, many of these people are well-meaning and polite, but a few are downright nasty. Like this email I received from a reader just last week:
The thing is, usually when people try to correct my doctrine, its over something reasonably inconsequential to the fundamentals of Christianity. For example, I get a lot of ‘hate-dressed-up-as-love’ from hardcore Evangelicals for being pro-LGBTIQ, whereas I don’t think Jesus is going to exclude me from Heaven on account of my advocating for a minority group that Christians have typically treated appallingly.
I’ve been accused of being ‘soft on sin,’ which I am totally okay with. They said the same thing about Jesus. I’ve been criticized for the version of the Bible that I use even though I can’t imagine Jesus standing at the pearly gates saying, “Sorry Son! You can’t come into Heaven because you didn’t use the King James Version of the Bible.” I’ve been called a false prophet, a Pharisee and a lunatic — all by lovely Christian people who disagreed with my doctrine.
If you want to disagree with me about a matter of opinion, then fine. Let’s talk, but let’s do it lovingly and respectfully. I’m sure we can find common ground. These days I don’t get inflamed with righteous indignation anymore, because I realized something quite profound. From a theological perspective, the person I was ten years ago would be appalled at the person I am today. I have become a heretic in the eyes of my past self! Therefore, I recognize that everyone is on a journey, just as I am, and so I allow others the grace to disagree with me. Besides, if God really is the all-knowing, all-powerful creator of the universe, then he doesn’t need the likes of me to defend Him.
Pointing out everyone else’s sin
Even the most cursory glance at social media will reveal Christians and preachers condemning unchurched people for their sexual preferences, life-style choices and even political views — all in the name of love, of course. They say, “Because I love you, I need to point out that I disagree with this behavior that is present in your life.”
Don’t get me wrong. There is certainly a time and a place for a person to step in and say something when they observe a self-destructive behavior in the life of another person that they care about. However, this ought to only be given by someone who possesses the emotional capital to deliver such a message — namely a trust friend who has earned the right to speak into that person’s life.
It is not the job of Christians generally to condemn other people’s behavior as one who looks on from a distance, or as one to whom the privilege of giving advice and guidance has not been granted. If we overstep this mark, we are simply being judgmental — something that Jesus talked about this at length in Matthew 7:1–5:
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.
As Carey Nieuwhof says, “You can’t judge someone and love them at the same time.”
Telling people they are going to Hell
Some Christians go even further than pointing out the sins of others. They see it as their duty to tell people that they are going to Hell — because they love them, of course. For example, back in 2014, mega church Pastor Mark Driscoll infamously tweeted this:
Later that year, Driscoll was forced to resign from his position following accusations of bullying, plagiarism, misuse of church funds and for propagating his evangelical brand of toxic masculinity (He once labeled wives as “penis homes”). Still, as long as he’s prayed the “Sinner’s prayer,” he’s all good, right?
Another, more recent example, is famous Australian Rugby player, Israel Folau, who posted this on Instagram:
As the media storm surrounding Folau’s post unfolded, Folau refused to retract his comments insisting that he had made them “out of love.” Folau’s cousin was quoted as saying, “If you truly love someone, just as Israel loves everyone, you would want to warn people.” Folau subsequently had his lucrative Rugby contract torn up and was thrown out of the sport for good.
Given the response to Folau’s comments, I suggest that most people would struggle to see how telling someone they are going to hell, is a loving action. I don’t see it as a loving action, either. Personally, I am not so confident in my own ability to determine who gets into Heaven and who does not. I prefer to leave the job of being God, to God.
Talking about others behind their backs
Gossip is one of those sins that Christians largely overlook but, in my opinion, it is one of the most toxic evils present in the church. Maybe this is why the Bible expressly condemns gossip.
Perhaps this explains why, in the church, we often dress up gossip as ‘pastoral concern.’ You can imagine someone saying to another, “Can you please pray for ‘such and such’ a person because they are having a hard time because of ‘such and such’ a problem.” In so doing, we unwittingly disclose someone’s private struggle to another person — in the name of love, of course.
When someone asks you, “Is there anything I can pray for you about?” it makes you wonder if they are sincere or if they want a juicy tidbit about your life that they can spread through the prayer chain. It is quite sad that when I was in church, I would only share my deepest insecurities, fears and struggles with people who were not connected to my congregation. I would only share in my church what I was happy for everyone else to know. That is how confident I was that ‘word would get around.’
What a sad indictment on the church. I wonder how many — just like me — saw the church as a reasonably unsafe place to share?
An obsession with the depravity of humankind
“You are a wicked, wicked sinner and… oh boy! I’m not even sure how God tolerates you! He must have sighed and rolled his eyes as he sent his son to die to save you!”
I can imagine it being said in church. Can you? Maybe not exactly in those words, but the overarching sense that God is angry and displeased with you, just seems to come through.
How tragic.
The most enduring and prolific metaphor that is used to describe God in the Bible is the image of him as a loving Father. I’d like to think of myself as a loving father as well — though I make no claims to being even close to perfect. But, as a loving father, I look at my own children, and I do not see them as depraved and wicked. I actually delight in them.
Even when they disappoint me, my negative emotions towards them are brief and momentary, and quickly surrender to the delight that I experience simply in the fact that they are my children and I love them. Should the situation ever arise — God forbid — where they got into a position where they needed saving at my own expense, I would not even have to think. I would act — almost instinctively. Now, I suppose that if I would do that — even though I am an imperfect Father — that God would feel it all the more.
So, let me ask you: Why do so many Christians make it out like God is angry and highly inconvenienced by our waywardness, and that he begrudgingly came to Earth? How about we use the love of God as the starting point of the Gospel — rather than starting with how hopelessly wicked and sinful we all are. Being told that I am loved is much more compelling that being told I am evil.
Freezing out those who doubt
In church, we ought to be able to express our doubts to each other without fear of reprisal or judgment, but too often this is not the case. Anyone who is really progressing in their faith will eventually stumble onto some troubling questions, such as:
- If God is so good why is there so much suffering in the world?
- Is the Bible really the word of God?
- Where does science come into it?
- How do I even know that God exists?
These are questions that everyone asks in their head, but not as many ask out loud. The church often dismisses them with glib, religious catch phrases like, “Just have for faith,” or “God works in mysterious ways.” When people are unsatisfied with these answers, we start to view them as ‘backsliders’ and treat them as objects of pity — as if they were poor, lost souls.
However, according to James Fowlers’ Six Stages of Faith Development, the person who is experiencing a “faith crisis” may actually be further advanced in their faith development than the person who has never done so. After all, how can faith be proved genuine unless it is genuinely tested? So why do we treat people who have doubts as if they were on the brink of Hell? Why do we pray for them to return to the kind of certainty that we possess, as if faith weren’t even part of the equation. Why do we worry about them falling out of the faith all together? Maybe we’ve convinced ourselves that it’s unhealthy to discuss these difficult questions. We worry that, exposed to the light, our faith will fade away. If it’s tested it may just shatter. But, if our faith is that fragile, it probably was never true. If our God is so easily defeated, he is probably not really the true God.
Rachel Held Evans summed it up beautifully in her book, Evolving in Monkey Town, when she said: “We aren’t looking for a faith that provides all the answers; we’re looking for one in which we are free to ask the questions.”
Keeping the peace at the expense of growth
The word ‘nice’ does not appear in the Bible — not even once. Yet, on the surface it seems that the goal of Christianity is to be a nice person (and we even fail miserably at that a lot of the time), and teach other people to be nice people as well.
Notwithstanding the fact that many non-believers are just as nice, if not nicer than many Christians, I would say that ‘nice’ is actually a veneer that covers what’s really going on. It distracts and it obscures, and sometimes even leads to untruth. We can turn up to church and absolutely loath certain people who are sharing the sanctuary with us, but we slap on a smile and pretend that everything is great — in the name of love and keeping the peace.
That’s what Jesus would want, right?
The problem with the idea that the goal of Christianity is to be a ‘nice person’ is that is causes us to become conflict-avoiders and peace-keepers, especially with other Christians. However, the simple truth is whatever we do not process, we eventually project onto others. If left unaddressed, our offences will express themselves — one way or another. So while ‘nice’ Christians often avoid full-frontal conflict, they end up becoming the worst offenders when it comes to passive-aggressive behaviors.
Some examples of classic ‘Christian’ passive-aggressive behavior include: Being late for things, withholding tithes and offerings, procrastination, ‘forgetfulness,’ sullenness, stubbornness, not inviting certain people to events and activities, resistance to change, avoiding others, talking behind other’s backs and, of course, sarcasm.
Somehow Christians think this is more healthy than confronting an issue head-on? Give me a break. Conflict is the catalyst for growth. Resistance is what builds strength. Consequently, when we avoid conflict and having difficult conversations, because we think that is the loving thing to do, we actually to a disservice to ourselves and others.
We ought to be kind — make no mistake. But, being ‘nice’ can be a hindrance to growth.
There’s no hate like ‘Christian’ love
Sadly, some of the cruelest and hurtful things that have been done to me have been done by Christians who believed that they were being loving. What am I to make of that?
On one hand, I ought to be compassionate towards those people. After all, they truly thought they were being loving — even though they were not.
On the other hand, I really want to slap them and say, “Don’t you realize that you are not helping me, or representing Christ?”
Yet, even as the ‘Christian’ keyboard warriors get ready to start hacking away at their response to this blog post, expressing their disapproval at my poor doctrine, offering to pray that I “see the light,” grilling me about the version of the Bible that I use, I will choose compassion.
I was once just as judgmental. I was once a zealous defender of the faith. I once berated people for their lack of faith, for their poor theology and for their ‘laissez-faire’ approach to sin.
Yet here I am and, therefore, there is hope.
—
Previously Published on Medium
—
LivioAndronico Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.