I know it’s been a few weeks since this issue took over the news cycle, social media, and the blogosphere. I’m tardy to the party. But, in contrast to virtually all of the loudest voices that have weighed in on the issue, perhaps that qualifies me to say something of substance.
Four things I believe
Here are a few of my own random reflections on the RFRA ruckus.
1. All the propaganda, fear tactics, and false logic—from all sides—are killing the conversation.
It doesn’t matter which side of the religious, social, or political spectrum on which we stand, we each have a choice. We can either buy into the rhetoric and demonize “those people” who don’t share our favored philosophy, or we can listen, learn, discover common ground on which to stand, and then engage in constructive conversation.
Even if we have to agree to disagree, isn’t this posture preferable to what we’ve all been experiencing?
The moment we decide to dig a trench, make allies with any like-minded people we can find, and begin to hurl grenades at the other side, all progress ends.
And, as a Christian who understands my role on this earth as an agent of God’s redemptive plan for his creation, I simply cannot choose the satisfaction of merely being right over the unique opportunity to be salt and light to the people around me, people who are all dearly loved by their Creator.
2. Christians must become better at communicating what we’re for than what we’re against.
Pop quiz. You don’t need anyone to remind you what Christians are against. What are we for?
Where are the voices painting a compelling, biblical picture of the Imago Dei, the beautiful, complementary design of men and women, the covenental nature of marriage, the wondrous mysteries of married sex, the high and precious calling of parenting, and the latent redemptive power that the elevation of the institution of marriage would have upon our fractured and desperate culture?
As a Christian, I am convinced we need to change the narrative. We must tell such an evocative story—and live such a faithful example of that story—that we earn a hearing in the broader culture. There’s no reason to state what we’re against until we have expressed what we are for.
3. Christians must decide if we’d rather model our actions and words after Jesus or the Pharisees.
It should be no surprise, but Jesus perfectly embodied grace and truth.
Jesus continually courted scandal by his willing association with any and all of the notorious sinners who came across his path. A quick glance at the Gospels makes this abundantly clear. From partying with embezzlers, to touching the diseased, to conversing with adulteresses, Jesus was perpetually in proximity to people who were sinful and lost. This is vital: while Jesus faithfully demonstrated love to each and every one, he never missed an opportunity to challenge them to move beyond their sin and into his plan for them. The love he demonstrated and the truth he communicated, together, were transformative.
On the other hand, Jesus also spent a lot of time with the proper, righteous, upstanding members of his society. And, lest we fool ourselves, Jesus was dead set against allowing them to retain their smug, self-appointed position of religious superiority. He didn’t commend them for being against all the right social ills. He didn’t urge them on in their hypocritical bluster. He didn’t allow them to comfortably get by with the stereotypes they cast on sinners. He didn’t mince words. His judgment was clear.
Christians must make better decisions with regard to our approach. We must look more like Jesus—loving all and speaking God’s truth in love—than the pharisees—failing to see the sin in which they themselves were dwelling as a result of their own ill-conceived attempts to be perceived as morally superior.
4. The Church’s pursuit of political power is an adventure in missing the point.
Too often, it appears as if Christians believe that our hope is that we could change the bad laws, get the right politicians in office, or gain a greater amount political influence. That becomes all too clear in the midst of the RFRA ruckus that took place in Indiana this March.
Let’s just be clear on this point: the right politicians, in the right offices, creating the right laws is not the hope of the world.
The hope of the world is the Gospel of Jesus: the message that God became human, entered into the muck and mire of this sinful world, took on the worst it had to offer, and triumphed over sin and death. And, in so doing, he paved the way for all of us to be reunited with our Creator.
That is the hope of the world.
Where do we go from here?
If you’re a Christian and you’re reading this blog, I hope that you understand that the onus is on us. It’s up to us to form genuine, redemptive relationships with the very people we’re so quick to demonize. It’s up to us and our churches to hold high the transformative truth of the Gospel. It’s up to us to conduct our own lives with so much tangible grace and truth that the world is changed everywhere we go. It’s up to our families to exemplify the kind of faithfulness and love that God intended. And, it’s up to us to rely on prayer and the Holy Spirit—not any secular, para-church, or political institution—to produce the kind of heaven-on-earth world in which all of humanity would flourish.