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| Original photo, Africa, 2010 |
Being an evangelical means a lot these days. If you wear 'Not of This World' apparel, follow Beth Moore on Twitter, read all of Jennie Allen's books, and actually enjoy listening to the Newsboys, then you most likely fall within the category.
All of those descriptions apply to me.
I also really love that Kirk Cameron movie Fireproof, a truth that causes many a teasing comment to be thrown my way (all in good taste; my friends and I can joke about such matters). I don't even agree with Kirk Cameron in every way theologically, but I watch his movies all the same because I enjoy them, particularly that one. I know it's the cheesiest movie ever, but I just really find comfort in it. Sort of like when you eat warm, gooey homemade macaroni and cheese.
It's just such cheesy comforting goodness.
But none of those reasons are why I would call myself an evangelical. All that the word means to me is this: I love Jesus, and I want people to know it.
Not in the obnoxious, your-lifestyle-is-wrong-and-mine-is-right-so-get-on-board-with-the-heterosexual-movement way.
Just in the real, simple, biblical way. This guy named Jesus came to serve every man, woman, and child. He overturned death and started a movement to redeem this world. He's adopted us as children of light, called us to serve each other in love, and invited us to jump on board with a restoration movement.
I believe. I have faith in the Jesus movement.
I believe in God. I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe in the Holy Spirit.
And I believe in bringing the kingdom of heaven to earth.
Because our world is literally moaning and groaning with pains of hungering and suffering.
The greek word for 'good news' transliterated is 'euaggelion', which is where we derive the word evangelism or evangelical. This is all the title means to me, all I think it should mean even.
I'm an evangelical in the sense that I want my life to proclaim good news.
So anyway, I'm beginning to shy away from claiming such a title. I'm not shying away from wanting my life to proclaim Jesus, but the days are steadily increasing in which I shy away from wanting to admit that yes, I am an evangelical Christian.
Monday of this week was one of those days. Actually, every day this week so far has been one of those days.
For those unaware, a fiasco has gone down between the humanitarian world and the Protestant Evangelical Church of North America, one that has literally had a global impact. The president of World Vision, Richard Stearns, declared that his Christian organization would remain neutral in the same-sex marriage debate. Despite choosing Switzerland on the issue, he announced that World Vision would allow the employment of legally married gay couples. Sexual relations among employees would still be expected to be kept within the parameters of marriage, but all types of legal marriages would be allowed and acknowledged among all employees within the organization.
You can read the original interview between Stearns and Christianity Today by clicking here.
The response of many within the evangelical community was astounding and perhaps even a bit intimidating. If you're interested in reading some online reactions, see this by Trevin Wax at the Gospel Coalition, this piece by John Piper, and these words from Denny Burk of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.
'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me'.
Whoever coined that cliche was straight up lying.
The responses of the evangelical community on the event concerning World Vision contain detrimental potential. Not only do they speak disheartenment to the organization, but they close tightly the gates of the kingdom to the gay community.
As if we as the Church weren't already pulling them shut tight enough.
It's not even necessarily that the responses were standing in disagreement with the policy change. The political and theological differences were hardly the problem with the evangelical responses. As in most if not all situations, the problem was in how the words were said rather than the content that they contained.
What's even worse is that the words from those responses have inspired many Christians to withdraw support from World Vision. Movements always begin with leaders and then trickle on down, which is one reason among many why being in leadership is such a challenge as well as a privilege. When various evangelical leaders began to thrash out against World Vision because of a human resource decision within the company, many people who look up to said leaders began to withdraw their support of the organization.
Christians in the evangelical community began to cease child sponsorship because of theological and political differences.
Then, yesterday, World Vision put forth a public apology explaining the organization's decision to reverse the previously implemented policies regarding same-sex marriages among it's employees.
What this means, among other things, is that if you are gay and want to work alongside World Vision in their global mission to rescue humanity, you are unable to do so. You may not participate alongside this ministry in ending world hunger, creating jobs, or promoting sustenance in the name of Jesus because of your sexual orientation.
Have we really taken it this far, to place limitations on who can or cannot play a part in furthering the kingdom of God? Are we actually drawing lines in the sand, saying who can and cannot serve the needs of other people?
Are we really choosing to withdraw funding of actual lives because we don't want to associate ourselves with a certain ideology?
You may not find it to be a big deal, but I cannot be convinced. Not much stirs me up, but this did, this does. Using the lives of other people, especially of unaware, malnourished, underprivileged, innocent children as bait and blackmail 'because the Gospel is at stake' is a very big deal.
Since when was the Gospel of Jesus centered upon homosexuality, anyway?
When I first read and heard about it all, when I read the words of Christians justifying injustice, rage fueled within me and my thoughts ran wild. For awhile, I was mad (what an understatement). I've actually met people who are impacted by World Vision, and the thought of those people or others like them suddenly losing financial income because of a theological dispute taking place in America brought out the Mama Dragon in me. Argue about ideology all you want, but don't you dare use my Haitian and African babies, people who are made of stories and breath and flesh and cells, as a method of ransom just so you can have your way. The cross is certainly not meant to be a power struggle. If anything, the cross is meant to bring us to our knees. It's meant to inspire us to wash the feet of others whether we disagree with them or not.
At first I was downright upset, and then I found myself in a place of being emotionally neutral.
Because if you think about it, this entire situation isn't exactly surprising.
The term 'evangelical' brings a lot of baggage with it these days. Evangelicalism is known more for what it's against rather than for who it's for. Evangelicalism is a word that holds a negative connotation in the eyes of many. It's a word that brings political disputes to mind. To be an evangelical seems to be more about emphasizing right living, or at least what the evangelical community interprets as right living, rather than about moving with God to redeem and rescue humanity.
Evangelicals are slowly but surely coming to be known as those who place dogma and right theology over loving people in the name of Jesus.
Which sounds oddly like the ways of the Pharisees described within the pages of the Bible.
And that makes me want to cry.
After hearing about the evangelical response to the decisions made by World Vision, I became weary. For one, I'm over the same-sex marriage debate. It's clear that differences exist. Can we move on already? People are dying. Children are starving. The world needs loving. Or if we can't move past it, then can we arrive at a place in which these topics can be discussed lovingly and intellectually?
Really? Is the Church really in an uproar again over the issue of same-sex marriage?
And maybe I'm missing something, but I also can't wrap my mind around the idea of pulling funds that give real, in need, living human beings food, water, and shelter simply because of a political dispute.
I can't wrap my mind around why you would intentionally choose to take sustenance that you were previously providing away from another person, from a child, in need.
If your decision to cease humanitarian sponsorship is based upon political alignment, then what was your motivation to do humanitarian work in the first place?
More importantly, what sort of Gospel is this decision representing? When we as the Church decide to place seeking righteousness over seeking justice, over feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and caring for the least of these, what sort of Jesus are we saying we believe in?
Thankfully, we can misrepresent Jesus without changing the actual nature of Jesus. As much as we attempt to shape Jesus with our culture, He cannot be molded and formed to our preferences. He is who He is because of who He is, not because of who we make Him out to be.
God's grace overwhelms us, even when we choose not to serve the least of these.
All week I've been contemplating reactions and responses of Christians and non-Christians alike in the midst of all of this political and theological chaos. Radical evangelicals are upset about hiring decisions regarding same-sex marriages. Progressive Christians are upset that children are starving.
That's when I stopped my contemplation.
The answer became clear: obviously the latter is more important. Various people, Christians and non-Christians alike, are upset this week, and I would say perhaps righteously so.
Because in all of this political and theological upheaval, Jesus has been set aside.
Jesus came not only to speak the Gospel but to live it. Jesus Himself was the epitome of the Gospel. His life literally exemplified good news! When Jesus came in the flesh He began a movement centered upon seeking justice for the least of these, in living out peace for the sake of love.
If our lives as Christians do not reflect these truths, then dare I say our lives are not representing the Jesus of the Bible.
What kingdom are we spreading if not one of unity? What movement are we joining if not one of restoration? What Gospel are we preaching if we are pulling child sponsorships because we think believing the right doctrine is of greater importance than caring for the lives of other people?
I'm not sure Jesus would place theological purity over abandoning the real, tangible, in-the-flesh lives of other people.
Theology is important, no doubt. I'm a Biblical Text major, something about theology makes me come alive and awakens my very being. What we say about God is incredibly important.
No-scratch that.
How we live out Jesus is incredibly important.
Because then we won't necessarily have to declare what we do or don't believe, because people will know by our lives the God that we believe in.
A God who came to bring justice to the oppressed, a God who came to set captives free. A Jesus who came to serve the world, a Savior who came to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and help the poor.
A King who came to show love to a messy, broken, fallen sinful world.
A King who came to invite everyone who believes in Him to a great banquet, a magnificent feast of table fellowship in which unity draws diverse people together so that they, so that we, might serve in the kingdom of God together.
So that we may usher heaven to earth as one.
Needless to say, this week has been a discouraging one for many people.
Like many other Christians, especially those who might call themselves progressive, I have been angry this week. I've been pissed beyond belief, because making a political and theological point at the expense of other people is not okay, because choosing doctrinal purity over loving other people is exactly what Jesus spoke out against.
I'm not mad anymore though. The rage is gone, because grace reminded me of something in the midst of all of this: life is too short to do anything but love. I've realized that no matter how the Church may or may not represent Him, I am sold out to Jesus. I have dedicated my life because I believe in Him deeply. I believe in His movement of restoration, I believe in His invitation to 'come and follow me'. I believe that He has called us to walk in freedom, called us to unite in love to bring His kingdom to earth in serving the least of these.
Why spend our days doing anything less than loving each other?
So here I am, back at my hippie roots (you know me). Love is at the center, because our faith is founded in Christ.
I may completely disagree with the decision of World Vision to reverse it's hiring policy, but no matter. I will serve alongside my brothers and sisters. Men and women, conservative or liberal, gay or straight.
They're all just labels anyway. Once people get to know me, many are surprised. I've had people tell me I'm more conservative than they would've expected as well as had people say 'wow, that's quite liberal of you!' I've had people muse at my immaturity at times (because apparently your twenties are when you're supposed to grow up) and find it amusing that I cuss every now and then. I have friends who find it intriguing that I'm a biblical text major and also wonder how on earth I could be so incompetent and clumsy at times. All of these characteristics add to who I am, but at the end of the day they aren't wholly what I'm about. I'm an evangelical in some ways and a progressive Christian in others. Many labels apply to me, but they certainly do not define me or you or anyone else.
Labels are simply labels. What I want to be first and foremost known for is my love for and pursuit of Jesus. I want to run after Him with great abandon, I want to delve into the Scriptures and soak in all that I can about He who I hold to be the Christ.
And I want all of His disciples, all who believe in Him, to join together for His cause.
All week the one topic that has been on my mind is unity. Particularly I've been thinking of Paul and how his life, though it was dedicated to spreading the Gospel, looked a bit different than the lives of many Christians today, particularly in the area of evangelism.
I have to make a confession: I've grown weary over time of evangelicalism. All things about it carry an intimidation factor. I used to think of myself as one who could associate with the evangelical church, but the term 'evangelical' has lost so much of it's appeal over time because of scenarios such as the one regarding World Vision. This week was like the Duck Dynasty controversy all over again, just escalated.
The term evangelical is driving people away from the Church, especially people my age. I know too many young people, I've read too many stories of twenty-somethings who love Jesus and love the idea of the Church, of a loving community of kingdom-oriented people, but who are turned off by the intimidating and often times legalistic responses of the evangelical community that is prominent in North America today.
A common question asked is why the number of millennials leaving the Church is increasing year by year, and I think the answer is quite clear.
If you want to know why the number of college students who choose to abandon the Faith is growing, look to situations such as this.
This question pertains to my generation, and believe me when I tell you it pertains directly to me. I went through a stage in which I questioned my faith and if I wanted to be a part of the Church at all. Quite honestly the reasons I chose to stay were two-fold: first, I loved Jesus. I loved Jesus, and I still do. He is truly a servant, truly a glorious light that draws me in. I want to be like that man, and I want my life to reflect who I believe He is. I'm convinced by the resurrection, and His love has transformed my life. Second, I was surrounded by people who were the Church. When I was struggling with serious doubts regarding my Faith, I saw people love unconditionally. I saw men and women unite together for the sake of the Gospel. I saw people live out the sweet calling of Jesus. I saw a Church stand strong by kneeling down and loving 'the least of these' (which really is all of us).
My generation is such a passion driven, grace-filled one. We're real, authentic, and unafraid to boldly live Jesus. We want to live the messy. We don't shy away from getting dirt under our nails. We want to live freedom, and we want to live it boldly.
Not that sanctification or right living becomes futile or unimportant. It's just that the definition of legalism is to focus on the work or act itself. The definition of love is to focus on faith, and when a heart focuses on faith, a life begins to be produced in which the right fruit out of a spirit-dependent soul comes forth.
I'm also tired of casting stones. Let's lay them down. Let's cease firing grenades and demanding repentance.
When we talk about sin, let's talk about our own. We've all got to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. Let's lower the pointing fingers and set aside the rule books and start loving each other.
Because here's the thing: I have friends who are gay. As a millennial this is a regular part of my life, a regular part of our lives, and whether I agree with it or not becomes futile whenever people around me are hungry and starving and naked and in need.
I'm not saying that the topic of same-sex marriage has no place in conversation. It absolutely does, and I think even this conversation needs to be altered to be discussed lovingly and intellectually. As we study the Scriptures we need to consider cultural contexts and original intents of the biblical writers. We need to consider a lot before we start cherry-picking bible verses and building entire theological frameworks around them.
More importantly though, we need to remember that this world is made of real-life people. None of us are pawns to be used in theological debates or political arguments.
Lastly, we are all sinners. Gay, straight, lesbian, transgendered, democratic, republican, man or woman.
Grace covers us all, and there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
My generation is one that wants to serve alongside each other together regardless of sexual orientation or anything else, because we know that the kingdom is bigger than us. We know that serving the needs of other people takes precedence. We know that Jesus has called us to unity, and we want to be a Church that lives this out.
We don't want to be a part of a Church that draws people to it's religion by loudly discrediting what they believe or by proclaiming how wrong they are. We want to be a part of a Church that is reflecting God by loving others without condition. We want to be a part of a Church that nourishes lives, both physically and spiritually, in the name of Jesus. We want to be a part of a community that places loving other people over being 'doctrinally correct'. We want to be a part of a Church that places Jesus above culture wars and morality disputes. We want to be a part of a Church that moves mountains with faith the size of a mustard seed.
Don't we have faith in our Jesus? Don't we believe that He is big enough to handle our political and theological disputes? Don't we believe that His love can unite us as brothers and sisters to serve one another in familial love?
Don't we believe that His agape love can reign down from heaven? Don't we trust that He can work in our lives to wreck poverty and abuse and oppression, that His love can overturn death and bring darkness to light?
This is how people are drawn to Christ. When we let His love flow through our words and actions, He uses us to draw people to Himself.
Dear Church, take it from a college girl who loves Jesus: I want to stand firm with you. It becomes hard, however, to do so when standing with you means to pull funds from starving souls in third-world countries.
When I think on biblical evangelism, if there even is such a concept, my thoughts turn to Paul. He was certainly not ashamed of the Gospel and in fact his whole life was dedicated to spreading the Good News, but his evangelical lifestyle looked a bit different than how ours oftentimes tend to. He was faithful, and oftentimes we translate this idea of being faithful into the American culture as obnoxiously as possible. Being faithful means being loud about your faith, literally. Being faithful means being closed off to any other views. Being faithful means being an expert in apologetics or being able to discredit any other world-views other than your own.
None of this is what being faithful meant to Paul or many others within the Bible, however, and I think we need to acknowledge this.
Acts 17 tells us much in regards to Gospel faithfulness:
Paul had a willingness to engage with whoever he was sharing the news of Jesus with. His mindset was one of going to other people rather than sitting back and waiting for them to come to him, which, oddly enough sounds a lot like how Jesus lived.
From the text we see that Paul is open to conversation, which is different than debating or unproductive quarreling. Paul sees differences in others as opportunities to learn rather than obstacles to knock down.
Whenever Paul converses with anyone, and especially those who didn't know Jesus, he shows himself to be relevant. He doesn't talk about that which he is not informed about, and he makes sure to educate himself on the beliefs or disbeliefs of others. We see this as he engages with Greek philosophers, stoics, materialists, and many others.
In the midst of it all Paul finds a humble way to remain faithful to the Gospel, which to him is solely truth about Jesus being the Christ. This, in fact, was really the only issue over which Paul found reason to divide upon. If the truth of Jesus was at stake, then Paul saw reason to dispute. Not much, if anything, was as important to Paul as who someone said Jesus was.
Not that other issues are rendered absolutely unimportant, but that the person of Jesus takes precedence. The person of Jesus is what unifies people, what brings Jews and Gentiles, men and women, slave and free to the table of grace in sweet fellowship together.
For the sake of the Gospel, for the sake of unity Paul would go to great lengths to preserve relationships. He became all things for all people. Do we as the Church, as disciples of Christ live this out? It's a tough question to ask: am I becoming all things for all people so that another person may know Jesus?
It's a hard balance to find, being passionate about Christ, even holding to firm beliefs while at the same time taking the place of a servant in order to love people above all.
Which is what it's all about, anyway. Gospel faithfulness is about loving other people. Straight up. Jesus himself said that to love God and other people are the two greatest commands, and they are intertwined, attached at the hip. Everything else hinges upon the command to love.
Some days I wish we could take the term 'evangelical' and throw it out the door.
Start over.
Rethink not what it is we stand for or against but who it is we believe in.
And not only call ourselves disciples but actually start to believe it, begin to live it out.
Maybe then the hungry would be so no longer. Perhaps then oppression would cease and justice would be brought to the farthest corners of the earth. How beautiful to think of a world in which men and women stand united together to sponsor children and fund human sustenance all for the sake of love.
Not because of political motivations, financial incentives, or theological disagreements over sexual ethics.
But because it's what Jesus would do, and we want to be like Him.
Because to love Him is to love others, and we want to spend our lives living out His divine love.
So Church, you've won the dispute. You've declared loudly what you believe and don't believe, and out of much table-pounding and fist-shaking many voices have degraded a humanitarian organization into submission. Many have acted like children, thrown tantrums, and gotten their way. The Church has heaped salt onto the open wounds of those who we've fired bullets at in the past, and we've fought for tradition because 'the Gospel was at stake' (I forgot the Good News was founded in tradition...). We've used children for the sake of theological alignment and pushed more people away than ever.
The world may not know about our Jesus but they sure as hell know that we refuse to serve in the kingdom with anyone who disagrees with our views on right living.
We've come out on top. We've won the power struggle.
How does it feel?
