I have been doing this church thing pretty much all my life.
Professionally, I am a pastor, which means I spend most of my days living and breathing in the world of the Christian faith. I have been in this environment for so long that it is challenging for me to see beyond the worldview of the church, but I try. I try.
I work at it because I think if Christians want to have a voice that anybody will take seriously, we need to know and value the world in which we live. We need to talk less and listen more.
A few weeks ago, Mars Hill Bible Church pastor Rob Bell released a book entitled “Love Wins.” Even before it was available to be read, groups of Christians pounced on Bell and his ideas, trashing him, condemning him. Rob Bell, flawed human that he is, has been a refreshing find in my life. I am grateful for his “Nooma” videos, his books and his sermons (which I listen to online). I read “Love Wins” immediately (on my iPhone, which was interesting) and found it hopeful and compelling. There was nothing in it that I didn’t learn in the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary back in the late 1970s.
The reaction to “Love Wins” reminds me of what has always troubled me about my faith, though I realize this same problem exists in all religions. When we people of faith speak about things we believe, we often make the assumption that what we believe as ultimate truth is evident to all, or at least that it should be evident to all. If others don’t get our “truth,” we treat them as ignorant or flawed — sometimes as a threatening enemy.
Even within our Christian family, if someone dares express an idea that does not pass our group’s orthodox litmus test, we feel free to attach and punish. This attack way of behaving has always made Christians look like jerks.
I am deeply devoted to my faith, but I also think there is need for humility when it comes to “defending the truths.” Paul, an early Christian leader, once said that “now we see into a glass dimly, then we will see face to face.” He wrote this to a church in Corinth that was lacerated by division over who was right and who was wrong.
Paul called for humility, admitting that our knowledge is at best partial. “We see through a glass dimly.” Things are not completely clear. Things are not absolutely understandable. At the end of his comments about this, Paul said, “Now faith, hope and love abide, but the greatest of these is love.” Paul, seeing the bitter divisions in the church, called for love to prevail. Love, I think, is more important than being right.
The other day I was headed home and looked up at the clouds. They raced across the sky, beautifully lit by the late afternoon sun. Suddenly, I was reminded of just how small my life is. I am but one tiny part of a creation that has been going on for millions of years.
If I am fortunate I will live about 80 years on this small planet tucked in one solar system on the outer edge of one galaxy among millions of galaxies that expands in a mysteriously vast universe. I was overwhelmed by the wonder of my life. And I was humbled. There is so much I do not know. There is so much I do not understand. There is so much wisdom God has yet shown me.
Before we spout off, condemning, judging, making definitive pronouncements about what is ultimate truth, perhaps we would do well to remember Paul’s humble caution: “We see into a glass dimly.” Someday, but not this day, we will see face to face.
In the meantime, there is faith, there is hope, and there is love. But, yes, the greatest of these is love.
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