Loving Driscoll, Coulter, Jakes and Osteen.

There are so many people who claim to speak for "Christianity" that I wish to have nothing to do with. I wish they would go away or that someone with authority would tell them that they are not Christians and that they do not speak for Jesus.

But that's not going to happen.

And so I am constantly trying to distinguish who I am and where I stand in opposition to these people. I claim Jesus as well, or rather I hope he claims me, but I do not want to be associated with those who are destructive and hurtful. I might even go so far on my worse days to call their actions (if not their persons) evil. And yet we claim the same Jesus.

What is a boy to do?

On the one hand, I do not support their words or actions. But on the other, they likely wouldn't support mine either. So let me ask you this: regardless of whether or not you agree with me or with some of the names in this title, does your agreement dictate who is or is not a Christian? Are there Christians who disagree with me or I with them? Does that mean they are not Christians? Are there Christians who have done horrendous things throughout the centuries? Does that make them not Christians? Is Christianity predicated on universal agreement with our actions? Is it morally democratic?

Even though I oppose the actions and positions of certain people, I cannot exclude them from the kingdom of heaven because of it.

As if it was my decision to make anyway. But I think we expend vast amounts of energy trying to disallow the perspectives of those with whom we disagree in the hopes that our evangelistic efforts will not fail because of their celebrity. What if instead of this expense we accept these destroyers as fellow destroyers with us, because none of us is above the crest of sin. Nor are we above the authority of others.

Now, I am not saying that we should stop calling these people out. Far from it. When we are actively including even those we find abhorrent into our fellowship we should be all the more diligent in opposing them and calling them to account for their destructiveness because it is our destruction as well as theirs at stake. But we are to do so as fellows, not as others. We may need to articulate how we differ from them, but that difference should never be intended to "other" them. 

I am arguing for a radical inclusiveness that transcends ideological boundaries.

Turns out, this is what we see from Jesus and his followers in the NT. People were included into the kingdom of Jesus despite obvious disagreement. Think about Simon the Zealot chilling out with Matthew the Tax Collector. Neither stopped being what they were (or at least the text does not say so), but rather they partook in the same life together, despite their obvious differences and opposition. 

But I am also arguing for a change in attitude by both the Fundies and ex-Fundies.

Instead of an attitude of hatred and exclusion our attitude must be that of brothers and sisters. We are family, and like any family there will be those who walk into destruction. But what kind of a family is it that does nothing to help those who do so? They are a family in biology only. So yes, I love Driscoll, Coulter, Jakes and Osteen, even though I think they are wrong and destructive. I count them my family-and I will continue to call them out as such. Not as enemies.

The Cynical Confession of Cynicism

It is, at times, easy to hide my cynicism from myself. I seem to have mastered the art of concealing my attitudes and feelings about certain things in life from myself and thereby from my conscious stream of communication.

Yet sometimes my cynicism makes of itself an obvious presence. Sometimes, given the right circumstances, my cynicism comes pouring out in an obfuse torrent that takes me quite by surprise. This weekend provided one such opportunity for cynicism to flourish, and it yet again surprised and, to be honest, scared me.

The details are somewhat irrelevant, but the epicenter of my cynical ranting was the continual and pervasive proliferation of American Conservativism masquerading as Christianity. This pretension is where I grew up, or rather it was the attitude I took upon myself while undertaking that heavenward development. The circumstances of my extraction from said mental location are numerous and vast, and cannot be adequately explained in such a blog as this, save to say that it has been a slow movement of pain and recognition of betrayal that may or not actually exist beyond the horizons of my brain. But now I harbor such a deep disdain for anything that smacks of such leanings that I cannot contain my feelings and they come roaring out in an undiscriminating profusion.

If it were not so...

Nevertheless I wish it were not so. I wish that I was able to stand at some safe, perhaps even unbelieving, distance from such proceedings and see not a murderous conspiracy of empowered men and social classes to consolidate their control or finances, but instead see the good intentioned souls who wish only to preserve the life and breath of those near and dear to them.

And it is of this wish that I often choose to remain mute.

It is of this yearning for sight that my eyes remain closed and my fingers stuck firmly into my ears so as not to hear or see the events as they unfold around me. I wish I did not know the things I know and had not heard the things I have. Ignorance seems all the more blissful to cynics like me.

And so it is that I chose to hide my cynicism from myself (with the intention that others should not see) so that I may have a voice with those whom I wish to speak. I know that if I just let the cynic out for the evening those who need to hear what I want to say will never give me a bent ear. And so over time I get so used to living in my facade that when the cynic comes out I am surprised and afraid. I do not want to be that person. I want to live in forgiveness and not in cynicism. But how can I ignore the continual barrage of empty rhetoric and sloganeering that only tears off the scabs of those I know and love?

And how can I still love a God and a bible that have been so thoroughly claimed by such brutal and destructive means? How can I hold onto my love of a relationship so depraved and counter to its own designs as Christianity? Either I assert that I am not those people and that Christianity is something else, or I claim them as my people and sacrifice all of my own integrity in the process.

And so I am a cynic, and the circle ends where we began.

The truth is that I am those people. I'll never live beyond the shadows of the pillars I've known all my life. It is an uphill struggle to remain hopeful and optimistic while working towards something that is so unlikely as a reconciliation of humanity. Maybe normal, non-crazy people can "take back the bible" from the extremists and fundamentalists. But that can't be me, because I'm as crazy as the next guy. But I do hope for a reconciliation of humanity. This seems to me to be the bible's hope as well.

The question for me is on who's terms?

None of us speak for God, and none of us are right about what we think about God. I'm sure I'll get a response to this post that answers my question with "God's terms," which will of course mean "my terms." And I'll agree with them, meaning I agree with what they say but not with what they mean. As cynical as ever.

How do I get beyond my cynicism? Do I own it and let it drip from my fangs? Do I hide it as I have been and cut off my right hand so as not to offend someone else?

I think the cure for cynicism is forgiveness, but I've yet to learn how to do that effectively.