I don’t listen to Christian music often because, quite
honestly, most of it makes me sick, but on the rare occasion I find myself in
the mood, I love to listen to the lyrics.
Maybe it’s because I’m a writer, or because I love poetry; regardless,
if I’m going to fall in love with a song, the lyrics have got to be something
special. There’s a whole lot more going
on with music, the way certain sounds make you feel sad or happy or make you
think deep thoughts, but my mind picks out the lyrics above all else.
There’s a song by little-known Presbyterian singer-songwriter
David LaMotte that has been drifting around my head recently. The refrain goes “I meant what I said Peter,
put down your sword. Did you
forget? Did you think I was joking? This is not why I’m here, Peter, not to
destroy; the world is already so broken.
Maybe you think I’m a fool, maybe a fool is what I am.”
In a popular Christianity where militaristic language
dominates and God is transformed into a give/take philosophy, where God gives (remember
manna in the desert?) and we take (all of creation belongs to us after all), it
is a helpful to remember that there are ordinary radicals who refuse to conform
to this way of thinking. In high school
and college, I “gave up” being Christian.
I still went to church and youth group, and sought out Christian friends
whose love and confidence radiated, drawing me in like a moth to a candle, but
I really struggled calling myself Christian because I didn’t want to be
associated with what I was learning about what the Christian community believed
and did. A community obsessed with
militaristic language, talking about God as King and Father (both words that
hold very negative connotations for me), a power-hungry ruler of the universe
who demands blood and is content to watch the world kill itself off because “the
believers” are winning (and I’ve never believed the ends justify the
means).
I’ve always defended religion as a substitute for talking
about world-view, for how we think and act and talk about and live in this
world, but I found it extremely hard to continue to align myself with a group
of people who believe nothing I do and who act in ways that make me
cringe. This was no longer my world-view
and so I gave up the title as well.
I will forever understand parts of this world-view; the
desire to belong, for complete forgiveness, for a reason behind everything; the
feeling of being “saved” and knowing that I was an exclusive member of the in-group
headed for eternal happiness. It’s
enticing. And yet, I can’t. The hypocrisy of the popular Christian
movement troubles me greatly, and yet I still find myself coming back to the
theology and the lives of ordinary radicals: Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day,
Frances of Assisi.
It gives me hope. It
gives me hope to know that there are people out there who love life and others,
and who give of themselves expecting nothing in return, and it is this that makes
them happy. Little microcosms of love
lived out, without asking anything in return.
People who still believe in miracles because they witness daily that
lives can be transformed because their life is constantly being transformed by
the people they live and work with.
People who trust that there is enough in this world for all of us –
food, water, shelter, love – if only we are willing to accept that our vision
of perfect isn’t always what the universe has in store.
It gives me hope, that there are communities of people who
live with conviction and who act out of compassion. It gives me hope that these people have taken
a foundation that in so much popular culture is a source of hate and greed, and
used it to create communities of love. There
is so much good out there. There is so
much love and compassion; normal people who choose acts kindness to strangers. On days when religion becomes synonymous with
“backwards” and “ignorant” I want to give up on it completely. And yet, Liberation Theology, Catholic Social
Teaching, and the everyday examples of outstanding people, as well as everyday
people committed to acting out of unconditional love; these give me hope.
I still don’t believe in much of the doctrine. Or the importance of said doctrine. I don’t like the patriarchal language and
imagery used to talk about “God.” I can’t
stand the obsession evangelicals have with the concept of being “saved.” I don’t get how threats of eternity in Heaven
and Hell are used as a scare tactic to get people to conform to your way of
thinking. And it really makes me mad
when people use Christianity to propagate hate.
I don’t like it. And most days it’s
really hard to engage in conversations about why that’s not the Christianity I
believe in.
Because this religion, it’s not one singular
world-view. It’s a mix of love and hate
and mixed messages about how to act in the world. It can be used for good. It can be used for evil. It is not the story or the lessons or the
traditions that are innately good or bad.
It’s what we do with them. And I
choose to see through a lens of love.
That this creator of the universe isn’t damning people to “hell” because
a missionary didn’t make it to their small village in time to “save”
everyone. I can’t believe in that kind
of god. I believe Jesus left us with a
legacy to love unconditionally, and that makes sense to me. Unconditional love to everyone in the world,
that there is always a third option between the two extremes, that we can use
our own creativity to work through even the most difficult of situations. There is not just life or death, heaven or
hell, in or out, but a new creation in which we are able to see past barriers
to the humanity, the dignity, the divinity in everyone and everything.
This is how I see the world, and how I want to be in this
world. I want to live without holding
back; I want to love expecting nothing in return. I want to trust in the universe enough to
believe in miracles, to recognize when there are things outside of my own
understanding, but that doesn’t mean they are untrue. Call me Christian if you want, or call me a
heretic, I still don’t think the title matters. Maybe you think I’m a fool;
maybe a fool is what I am. But at the
end of the day, I’m human- just like you- and that is what matters.
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