I am not a conservative. Nor am I a liberal. I am a Christian.

Now that most of you have quit listening, let me tell you a story.

One of the requirements for the denomination in which I currently work is to attend a seminar on inclusiveness. For the most part, this was and is a helpful and educational process. There was, however, a moment the last time I attended. A moment that seemed to belie the very reason that had necessitated the need for such a seminar. A moment that seemed to undercut the message itself.

It happened innocently enough. Someone made a joke, the content of which doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say, it was a joke about our former president (does it matter which one?). The whole room seemed to laugh. But then it struck me. I wondered if there was someone in there who didn’t find that funny? I looked around. Some, it turned out, were not laughing. Then I thought a dangerous thought: “That’s not very inclusive.” If anything, it communicates, “You don’t belong here. This isn’t your room.” We forget, however, that the people pushed out of these rooms will seek other rooms. The question is whether that’s working for us or not.

Now for the real rub. Although 2020 is in the rearview, it somehow still feels like it’s with us. Like a fog that refuses to lift no matter how long you drive into the morning. How ironic that 20/20 is also a term for perfect vision, something I think we Christians may lack more than ever these days, if we ever actually had it. Especially when it comes to ourselves. The Apostle Paul would remind us that we see now in a mirror that is dim or foggy at best (1 Cor. 13:12). That’s in the love chapter, by the way. The one that gets quoted at weddings but is really about the hard work of doing church together.

But maybe a new metaphor is in order. Because perfect vision isn’t really required to cast stones at our enemies across the chasm that has opened between conservative and progressive Christianity. It’s too far a throw. And as U.S. Christianity becomes increasingly polarized, those in the dip of the canyon between the two sides are being slowly bludgeoned to death by the rocks meant for the other side. If such an approach continues, no middle will exist. No one seeking peace, no conversation, nothing but two sides shouting across an abyss filled with stones and the bodies of those who dared to broker peace. The truth is that both sides are already so far apart that neither side really has to listen to the other if they don’t want to.

We live in an interesting time. Sacred cows are being tipped. Some longstanding ones, however, like misogyny, white supremacy, nationalism, self-righteousness, and greed are notoriously hard to topple.

The frustration is real. The pain is real. The sin is real. But is the church actually having these conversations, or are we part of the most ineffective construction crew ever? One where such cows are torn down only to have others clandestinely erected in their place during the night once the demolition team goes home for the day? Rinse and repeat. Codename: Sisyphus. [1]

Sorry. Maybe that’s too many metaphors. Back to the chasm one.

Being in the center, as it were, able to see the good in both sides, is no longer a tenable position according to those on the poles. It’s actually akin to blasphemy. Because both sides have their unforgiveable sins. And both sides have certain credentials that must be met to even receive a hearing.

Good! That’s being lukewarm! It shouldn’t be tolerated! Off with their heads!

But is there no space in the bottom of the chasm between us where we can meet and talk? I suppose that would require both sides to come down from their positions of power. And make no mistake, they both have them. Unfortunately, as Jesus tells it, that’s a long, dangerous road down that few will choose to take. But take it some must.

In the end, it’s really not even the content of the arguments, if you can call them that, that’s bothersome. It’s the way they are held. I heard a parable once by the provocateur philosopher Peter Rollins that told the story of a debate between an atheist and a Christian. The debate was fierce, brutal, personal, mean. But a miracle happened. In the middle of the debate, both the atheist and the Christian were converted to the other side. Confused, they merely switched podiums and continued the debate with the same spirit with which they had started.

The point being, how you hold your beliefs may be the most important thing about you. Maybe even more important than your actual beliefs. It doesn’t matter if you preach peace when you are at war with everyone. And it doesn’t make sense to be pro-life if you limit that idea to one politically expedient area, important as it may be. Christian relationships were never meant to be easy. They were meant to show a better way.

It’s notable, in this vein, that Barack Obama had this to say recently about how we have these conversations or don’t.

This idea of purity and you’re never compromised… you should get over that quickly. The world is messy; there are ambiguities. People who do really good stuff have flaws. People who you are fighting may love their kids, and share certain things with you. If all you’re doing is casting stones, you’re probably not going to get that far. That’s easy to do. [2]

Notice the language here. Very religious. Purity. Casting stones. Sound familiar?

I guess the real question is, do we want to change or not (John 5:6)? Do we want to be right or righteous? Do we want a gospel that eliminates my need for enemies and constantly obliterates my self-righteousness? That’s what the Christian gospel does, by the way. The one Christians spend so much time trying to avoid with our catchphrases, scapegoats, and smoke machines. Seeing clearly, it turns out, comes with a cost.

What if the truth was that we’re all cooperating with evil, maybe even more than we could ever imagine? And what if that person on the other side could show us with love how we’re doing just that? Good heavens, a church might break out. And that’s not accidental phrasing.

I admit, the other way does sound more fun. But when you make perfect understanding and agreement a requirement for fellowship, you’ve traded the religion that attracted natural enemies like tax collectors and Zealots alike for something else.

Real and lasting change, as we learn from the cross, never happens from a position of power, but from a place of vulnerability and love. That doesn’t mean we give in to injustice or evil. It just means we realize that injustice and evil often have a mortgage. And a family. And many of the same petty frustrations that you do.

Furthermore, making it impossible for those participating with injustice or evil to hear the message that might save their soul is not a laudable trait. Christians are not meant to be clanging gongs (1 Cor. 13:1). We have a message worthy of a symphony.

But I could be wrong. Maybe this is the way forward. After all, it’s hard to see down here in this chasm. I often find myself tripping over my own metaphors. One thing though. Could y’all speed it up? The more rocks you throw, the more the pile down here grows. Maybe soon we’ll be able to climb out of here. Who knows? If we survive, maybe we’ll join your side.

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[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sisyphus

[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/31/us/politics/obama-woke-cancel-culture.html