I ran across a pretty interesting article in Esquire magazine written by Shane Claiborne, head of The Simple Way ministry.It was sincere, hip and unflinching in its criticism of “religion gone bad.” I agreed, I think, with everything he wrote. Yet, in a roundabout way, it caused me to again ask a pretty critical question of the faith we share: Is an unpopular faith necessarily a bad faith?
But before we get into all that, here’s a very quick recap of the column.
Claiborne begins by apologizing on behalf of all Christians for “the embarrassing things we have done in the name of God.”
At one point Gandhi was asked if he was a Christian, and he said, essentially, “I sure love Jesus, but the Christians seem so unlike their Christ.” A recent study showed that the top three perceptions of Christians in the U. S. among young non-Christians are that Christians are 1) antigay, 2) judgmental, and 3) hypocritical. So what we have here is a bit of an image crisis, and much of that reputation is well deserved. That’s the ugly stuff. And that’s why I begin by saying that I’m sorry.
And then he comes with the equivalent of a written altar call — pretty gutsy, really:
I want to invite you to consider that maybe the televangelists and street preachers are wrong — and that God really is love. Maybe the fruits of the Spirit really are beautiful things like peace, patience, kindness, joy, love, goodness, and not the ugly things that have come to characterize religion, or politics, for that matter.
You can’t do justice to Claiborne’s thoughts in a couple of reprinted paragraphs, and I’d love it if you checked out the column yourself. But what the guy said resonated with me.
“The more I have read the Bible and studied the life of Jesus, the more I have become convinced that Christianity spreads best not through force but through fascination,” Claiborne writes. His sentiments, truth be told, aren’t all that new anymore: Don Miller, author of “Blue Like Jazz” and a number of other wonderfully written Christian books, comes from a similar place. Dan Merchant, creator of the entertaining, Michael Moore-esque doc “Lord, Save Us From Your Followers,” does too. All three believe that Christianity has a public relations problem — and that problem is, essentially, us.
I agree. I know lots of Christians who aren’t particularly good ambassadors of faith. Some are so embarrassing that, in my weaker moments, I kinda wish they’d either wise up or move on to a different religion so I — and we — wouldn’t have to keep apologizing for them.
But truth be told, I’m one of the worst examples of how a Christian should behave. I’m selfish, sinful, hypocritical and, as the previous paragraph clearly illustrates, not always that forgiving. For someone who supposedly gave his life to Christ, I have a hard time even giving up a parking space sometimes. I have a lot to apologize for.
But apologizing for the entire Christian faith? Man. It’s a great line, and I think it sparks some respect from those who have been hurt by the Church or Christians … but it still feels a little presumptive.
But my bigger question is this: Isn’t Christianity, in some ways, supposed to be polarizing? Isn’t Christianity’s biggest barrier to worldwide acceptance really … the faith itself?
“Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man!” reads Luke 6:22. The Bible, particularly the New Testament, is filled with references to persecution. The Scriptures tell us that persecution, really, is part of the gig. This doesn’t give Christians license to be jerks: But it is an acknowledgment that Christianity, at its core, is as counter-cultural movement as there is. It’s powerful. It’s dangerous. And some people will find it pretty icky, no matter how much we reflect its beauty.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m completely on board with Miller and Merchant and Claiborne. I think Christians often don’t represent Christ very effectively. We sometimes wield our faith with all the gentleness of a cudgel. But when we read Claiborne, we should keep our eyes on the true faith as represented by Jesus — just as Claiborne says we should. We should not mistake relevance with popularity. We should apologize for what we’ve done wrong — but stand firm for what our faith is, without reservation, without apology.
We should remember Jesus in all things: His kindness and boldness. We should teach, care for the sick, love our enemies, turn the other cheek.
But we should also be willing to turn over a table or two when the circumstances call for it.
