What's wrong with the right
Sometimes I have a hard time saying I'm a Christian.
Go ahead and gasp. Shudder and quote Luke 9:26.
The word Christian is a word with baggage. It's a word with 2,000 years of history, not all of it pleasant. And, more often than not, it's a word that gets tossed around like a grenade in today's political and cultural landscape. "We live in a Christian nation." "We need to get back to Christian values." "He's from a good, Christian family." In conservative circles, slapping the "Christian" label on something is the ticket to gaining acceptance and approval, regardless of whether or not the issue in question (the right to own an AK-47, for instance?) is ever, anywhere, mentioned or hinted at in the Bible.
The most nationally recognized "Christian" figures in the U.S. today are folks like Sarah Palin and Pat Robertson. People who say divisive things with little substance. Christians today are so often defined by what they're against: anti-gay, anti-abortion, anti-Obama, anti-whatever the cause of the moment is.
I cringe every time I hear of a conservative public figure saying something stupid, every time I hear a Christian make a casually ignorant comment about gays or Muslims or Jews or any other group that it's still kind of okay to label or stereotype within the Christian community. Being a Christian doesn't necessarily mean that I'm right-wing, or Republican, or that I think Obama is leading the country straight to hell. I'm not saying conservatives are the only people who say inflammatory things--idiocy is not confined to any one political persuasion--but it doesn't bother me if some other person acts like an imbecile, because I don't feel like I'm linked to it, the way I do when it's a Christian saying something dumb.
I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. It's hip, among young believers these days, to not even call yourself a Christian. "I'm a Christ-follower." "I believe in Jesus, but I'm not religious." These phrases have the advantage of distancing oneself from all the overtones that go along with the word Christian, but they have the disadvantage of being overly earnest and trendy and also devoid of true substance.
Of course, summing up your religious beliefs in a word, a phrase, a label, is impossible. No one can express the totality of their deepest thoughts about morality and justice, love and divinity, in one pithy statement. Not even if it's "love God, love others," another popular catchphrase for church-goers today.
But the whole problem with getting rid of the Christian label is that it's dishonest, and fundamentally selfish. Because that's what it all comes down to, in the end. Self. The Christian label makes me cringe because I imagine that if new acquaintances meet me and then learn that I am a Christian, they'll assume that I'm like them. Those people. The ignorant, loud-mouthed, angry ones. "I'm a Christian, but I'm not that kind of Christian," I want to say. Because I worry about what other people think of me, even when I shouldn't.
If I claim to be a Christian--and I do--that means that I am associating myself with a group of people who all believe that a Jewish man who lived 2,000 years ago was telling the truth when he claimed to be God. This group of people has grown and changed and morphed over the centuries it's been in existence; there are Christians all across the world whose lives, I'm guessing, all look very different, and yet they claim to all worship the same God. Although we may rightly condemn the atrocities that have been carried out in the name of Christ over the years, and we may voice our disagreement with believers whose words disgrace the name of Christ, but we can't just slap a new label on ourselves and pretend that we're part of some other religion entirely, some group with no history to drag around behind us. If I'm serious about what I believe, I need to know what it is that I'm a part of. Live it. Acknowledge it. Claim it, good and bad.
So. I'll go ahead and admit it. My name is Jen. And I'm a Christian.
Go ahead and gasp. Shudder and quote Luke 9:26.
The word Christian is a word with baggage. It's a word with 2,000 years of history, not all of it pleasant. And, more often than not, it's a word that gets tossed around like a grenade in today's political and cultural landscape. "We live in a Christian nation." "We need to get back to Christian values." "He's from a good, Christian family." In conservative circles, slapping the "Christian" label on something is the ticket to gaining acceptance and approval, regardless of whether or not the issue in question (the right to own an AK-47, for instance?) is ever, anywhere, mentioned or hinted at in the Bible.
The most nationally recognized "Christian" figures in the U.S. today are folks like Sarah Palin and Pat Robertson. People who say divisive things with little substance. Christians today are so often defined by what they're against: anti-gay, anti-abortion, anti-Obama, anti-whatever the cause of the moment is.
I cringe every time I hear of a conservative public figure saying something stupid, every time I hear a Christian make a casually ignorant comment about gays or Muslims or Jews or any other group that it's still kind of okay to label or stereotype within the Christian community. Being a Christian doesn't necessarily mean that I'm right-wing, or Republican, or that I think Obama is leading the country straight to hell. I'm not saying conservatives are the only people who say inflammatory things--idiocy is not confined to any one political persuasion--but it doesn't bother me if some other person acts like an imbecile, because I don't feel like I'm linked to it, the way I do when it's a Christian saying something dumb.
I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. It's hip, among young believers these days, to not even call yourself a Christian. "I'm a Christ-follower." "I believe in Jesus, but I'm not religious." These phrases have the advantage of distancing oneself from all the overtones that go along with the word Christian, but they have the disadvantage of being overly earnest and trendy and also devoid of true substance.
Of course, summing up your religious beliefs in a word, a phrase, a label, is impossible. No one can express the totality of their deepest thoughts about morality and justice, love and divinity, in one pithy statement. Not even if it's "love God, love others," another popular catchphrase for church-goers today.
But the whole problem with getting rid of the Christian label is that it's dishonest, and fundamentally selfish. Because that's what it all comes down to, in the end. Self. The Christian label makes me cringe because I imagine that if new acquaintances meet me and then learn that I am a Christian, they'll assume that I'm like them. Those people. The ignorant, loud-mouthed, angry ones. "I'm a Christian, but I'm not that kind of Christian," I want to say. Because I worry about what other people think of me, even when I shouldn't.
If I claim to be a Christian--and I do--that means that I am associating myself with a group of people who all believe that a Jewish man who lived 2,000 years ago was telling the truth when he claimed to be God. This group of people has grown and changed and morphed over the centuries it's been in existence; there are Christians all across the world whose lives, I'm guessing, all look very different, and yet they claim to all worship the same God. Although we may rightly condemn the atrocities that have been carried out in the name of Christ over the years, and we may voice our disagreement with believers whose words disgrace the name of Christ, but we can't just slap a new label on ourselves and pretend that we're part of some other religion entirely, some group with no history to drag around behind us. If I'm serious about what I believe, I need to know what it is that I'm a part of. Live it. Acknowledge it. Claim it, good and bad.
So. I'll go ahead and admit it. My name is Jen. And I'm a Christian.
7 comments:
Well said. It is sorta like a family name. People don't generally change their last name just because of embarrassing family members. It seems that the best response is to aim to live a life that is true to the values you hold and to extend grace to those who either hold different values or who act foolishly.
I'm not entirely sure I understand your thinking here. I felt you began with an almost apologetic admittance to being a Christian, but then you end with a statement of absolute pride. I guess I've always felt that just as I would not judge someone's character by their appearance I would expect the same from someone who knows I'm a Christian. And if they do judge me, I would hopefully change their minds over time.
I hear ya, Jen! Sometimes I want to give a disclaimer for being a Christian, especially to those who have been hurt by the church or those in it. In reality, I am quite thrilled about my relationship with God, but I'm sure aware of the impression people can get from Christians in our world and the stumbling block that it can be. I thought you described the baggage quite well! Thanks! Kristin
(Reading last line)
Hey! ME TOO! :)
(Pretty much "me too" on all the rest of it, in fact!)
I think I understand that feeling most when I say I'm a christian to someone trying to convert me to their own faith. I feel somehow shallow in associating with Christianity. Just like I'm one of the throng of Americans who all claim Christianity. Until I can explain myself and show a life lived for the Lord, it can be hard to be lumped in with the crowd of people who don't really hold the same values as I do. I like what Heather said about the family name. That makes sense.
Jen:
Just started reading your blog, which I think is charming, witty, smart and warm. Love!
I especially love this post on Christianity. I agree with absolutely everything you said, and it's something that's been on my mind lately, in fact.
My main concern is how do I raise my daughter? I waffle shamelessly so much in my own faith and lack thereof that I can't bring myself to be Mrs. Hypocritical Pants and join a church just because it seems like the right thing to do for her. Then again, I have wonderful memories from growing up in my hometown church. How can I deprive her of that?
Anyway. Like I said, love your writing, and your girls are lovely. My daughter's name is Evie, and she's two as well! Squee!
Sorry. It slips out sometimes.
@ Katie: Figuring out how to raise your children and what exactly to teach them you don't have everything figured out yourself is a tough one. I have a friend who has specifically said he's not ready to have kids until he does get his beliefs more figured out. I say, you're NEVER going to understand everything, so just plunge in.
But you're already there, just like I am. Maybe you can find a church that is accepting of people no matter where they are in their faith--completely solid in what they believe, or questioning, or not sure whether they've got any at all. A couple years ago my husband was so burned out on church he didn't want to go at all, but he did, for me, even though it wasn't providing any meaning for him. But eventually we did find a church that is accepting even of people who are willing to say (out loud! gasp!) that they struggle with doubt. And it's been good for us to be there.
For what it's worth, I'd suggest trying to find a church you can identify with and bring your daughter to--you're not going to get these early childhood years back. She might grow up to question what she's been taught, or it might provide a bedrock of solid ground and community that supports her.
Thanks for your comment. It's nice to hear from a fellow mama to an Evie :)
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