A Change of Language

Several (mostly good) things conspired over the last several months to eliminate much of my reading and nearly all of my writing time.  At the same time, some of these conspirators planted a seed in my mind that germinated for the last couple of months and eventually grew into this essay. 

I’ve written in passing a few times that the label “Social Justice Christian” makes me uncomfortable.  At the time, the discomfort was not strong enough to eliminate the phrase or to stop using it completely but it was there and growing.   The discomfort is now strong enough to make me change my language.  I intend to argue that we should stop using the phrase “Social Justice Christian”.  My argument also serves as a confession.  My (though not necessarily your) use of the phrase proves my own arrogance because I did not want to be “that kind of Christian”.  This dual purpose means that this essay will contain the pronoun “I” many more times than normal for my writing, which I hope you will excuse.

Three conspirators let this idea grow in me: something I said, something a friend said, and something I read.

The first conspirator is my own words.  It was a privilege to be invited to speak at RiverCross Church in Saint John, NB last March.  This has been my home church since returning to Saint John from seminary in 2011.  The focus of the sermon was Levi.  The idea I tried to present was that God sometimes picks odd candidates to share the gospel.  We have a choice.  We can be amazed that God’s forgiveness is so powerful that a man like Levi can be an ambassador for the gospel or we can be furious that God offers such forgiveness.  It is up to us.  I ended the sermon with a challenge to the congregation to think whether it would amaze them if God used a particular someone in the same way that he used Levi.  I said that I could think of someone.  Perhaps people saw this as a throwaway line or a bit of rhetoric.  It was neither.  I genuinely thought of someone.*

We will get to who that is later.  For now, realize that my own words forced me to think in a way that I hadn’t before.

The second conspirator is a debate I had with a close friend.  I enjoy vigorous debate about theology and how it should affect our daily living.  I can debate honestly with only a few people so I appreciate these talks.  My friend is concerned that the decreasing role for church in society is resulting in individual Christians losing their ability to participate fully as people of faith in society.  Some caveats.  He is certainly not arguing that Christians are being systematically discriminated against.  Nor is he arguing that Christians have lost our right to speak freely.  Instead, he makes the point that some people go out of their way to prove their own progressiveness by belittling faith in a dismissive way with a tone that implies the issue is settled and that anyone who disagrees with them is an idiot, thus ending the free exchange of ideas. 

I suggested that he wasn’t correct.  (The word “wrong” may have passed my lips.)  The evidence was the last couple of years of my life.  I’m part of a church with an excellent reputation for doing social good amongst some who typically distrust churches; I represent this church on a community development board that is decidedly secular but also views the faith community as crucial to its work; my career is in a faith-based organization where I manage a homeless shelter and people who aren’t Christians congratulate our efforts.  I spoke this list as if it settled the debate and I was arrogant and wrong to do so. 

I figured this out when he replied, “But what about issues not related to justice?”  I had no reply to give my friend.  See, his focus includes serving marginalized folks but as a pastor it includes much, much more of a person’s spirituality.  My focus is more limited as a layperson who works in community development, with a particular focus on homelessness.  This is not to say that what I do is not important (hardly); it is to say that I publicly present only one aspect of my faith with any regularity.

My words made me think.  My friend’s words convicted me, though he may not realize it.

The third conspirator is a quote from the book Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places by Eugene Peterson.  I was reading through (and struggling through) this book as devotional literature.  Perhaps this made me more susceptible to the needed spiritual aspect of theology that I sometimes miss.  Peterson writes:

Sectarianism is to the community what heresy is to theology, a willful removal of a part from the whole.  The part is, of course, good – a work of God.  But apart from the whole it is out of context and therefore diminished, disengaged from what it needs from the whole and from what’s left of the whole needs from it… (W)hy do we so often positively delight and celebrate the dividing up of the Jesus community into contentious and competitive groups? (page 240)

So here we are.  My words made me think, my friend’s words convicted me, and Peterson’s words let me know why. 

I should now share the “someone” I confessed thinking about a few minutes ago.  The people that popped into my mind when I challenged my listeners were the sorts of Christians who focus on one or two social issues with a fervor that I (still) think is misplaced.  This excitement is second only to the idea of “getting people saved” and leaving it at that – as if the four seconds it takes to say, “I’m a sinner in need of God’s grace; save me Jesus” is the entirety of faith.  I expect that Christians with this perspective are mistaken and I thought of them when I made the challenge.

An interjection is needed here.  Don’t misread what I am writing or put words at my fingers.  These four seconds are crucial to faith and I experienced them myself.  I also pray others will.  Acknowledging that this moment is crucial, however, is paired with the equally crucial realization that these words are the beginning to a life of faith and not a pause button until heaven.

I think you should read the book God Is. by David Adams Richards.  This is one of the best apologetics I’ve read and it helped to settle some of my lingering doubts, while also giving me language that lets me explain my faith.  I want to write about neither of these aspects of the book, however.  Instead, I will relay the start of this book.  A young woman approaches Richards and tells him that she recently began reading his books.  Are you a Christian, she asks him.  Richards is confounded.  He can’t say no because that would be a denial of the faith he was raised in, but he is fearful to say yes because he wants to add “But not like those other Christians”.  He points out that he is judging to avoid being judged.

I’ve read this book several times and this opening always makes me chuckle.  Between chuckles I mumble, Just like me, with a knowing grin on my face. 

Just like me.  These should be heart-breaking words, rather than comical words.  To my recollection, I have never said “Not like those other Christians”; however, this is exactly what I mean when I call myself a Social Justice Christian.  I want the people around me to know that I am not like the stereotypical evangelical we see on the news.**

When I identify myself as a Social Justice Christian I am implicitly saying that I am a better Christian than those who do not use this identifier.  I always thought this was an open-minded title.  Anyone from any denomination can be a Social Justice Christian, so I thought that I was setting aside the sectarianism of my youth that was very sure that I was a Baptist, while some of my friends were Anglican and Wesleyan.  Instead, I was creating new divisions.  I was the Social Justice Christian while others were the whatever-type Christians.  Such labels inevitably divide Jesus’ community and such division leads to ranking.  I was in the top group. 

Disciples are commanded to be humble.  Humility is hard when you have created such a ranking system. 

So, where does this leave me and (perhaps) you?  First, I think it is important to turn to a couple of scripture passages.  The first has been screaming at me as this essay formed in my mind and through the entire writing process.  In 1 Corinthians 1, Paul writes about a division in the community that sees sects form around Paul’s followers, Apollos’ followers, and Cephas’ followers.  There is a fourth group, those who claim to simply follow Jesus.  When I say that I want to identify as “a Christian” I need to beware that others did that two millennia ago and were chided for it.  I must avoid judging Social Justice Christians or else I’ve simply replaced one group to be scorned with another and this is undoubtedly the same sort of arrogance that I am confessing.  The second passage occurred to me a few minutes ago.  In Matthew 20, James and John’s mother asked to have her sons sit at Jesus’ left and right in the Kingdom.  Jesus’ response is undoubtedly a warning against division.  The passage reminds me that while I need to ensure that I don’t become pretentious about avoiding division (and thereby causing the division I try to avoid), I do need to be deliberate in my attempts to do things that allow for unity.

  

Second, I expect it is important not to become obsessive about avoiding labels.  Labels bring the benefit of quick identifiers and summaries without having to explain everything in every conversation.  They also help to clarify the frames that exist in every conversation.  I hope that I use terms that describe what I am about, rather than what I am not about.  Strangely, “social justice Christian” sounds like it defines what I am, but it seems to instead mean making sure people know that I am better at loving people (particularly marginalized people) than the rest of the church.  As I drop this term I most often identify as theologically conservative because I believe the common creeds of the church to be true.  Still, I like to simply say “Christian” and hope it leads to conversation. 

Third, none of this is to say that I will turn my focus away from so-called “justice issues”, particularly homelessness.  Specialization is not the same as sectarianism.  Recall Paul’s metaphor about the church being a body under Jesus’ head.  The church needs people to focus on such issues, but it also needs theologians, evangelists, youth workers, pastors, apostles, teachers, and an assortment of other folks. 

I hope that I’m able to focus on one or two areas of ministry myself without actually or even appearing to belittle other areas of ministry.  That starts by publically acknowledging the good work done by the other parts of the body.

*The full audio of the sermon is here http://mediadownload.radiantwebtools.com/MaintStreetChurch/SermonsNew/March%209%2C%202014.mp3.

**Incidentally, the news is the only place I’ve ever met one of these evangelicals.  I know a lot of people, but these folks still seem to be as mythical as the orcs Tolkien writes of.  I often think that I’ve just met one in the flesh, but then she or he says or does something that makes me realize that I was wrong.