Most of my family members identify as fundamentalist
Christians and political conservatives. As my own religious and political views
have evolved over the years, this has
made for some lively conversations, especially around the holidays. Back in my
college days, it seemed like these discussions regularly ended up in raised
voices and ad hominem attacks. Maybe
you can relate. Doesn’t everybody have that one annoying family member who
always wants to argue? But as time has gone by, I think we’ve found that some
of those old arguments have become a bit tired and worn out. After all, how
many times can you argue about baptism or gun control? It’s almost as if, without
us really knowing it was happening, our different opinions quietly faded into
the background, leaving behind the thing that’s been there all along. It’s the
thing that makes us a family in the first place. The thing that never goes
away: love. And the truth is, when I look around at my family at Easter or Christmas dinner, I’m not thinking about the differences between our
churches or the way we vote. I’m thinking: “This is my family. I love these
people.”
As a United Methodist, I have a second family – my church. Methodism
is my adopted home, a family of faith that took in an argumentative, restless
kid with a bunch of questions. The thing that drew me to the Methodist Church,
more than anything else, was its embodiment of the quote, “in big things,
unity; in small things, diversity; in all things; charity [love]).” In a
denomination that counts George W. Bush and Hillary Clinton as members,
Methodists know how to agree to disagree. Your typical United Methodist
congregation hosts a wide variety of spiritual refugees like myself – from
Southern Baptists to religious skeptics, and everything in between. At our
best, Methodists leave room for different opinions and focus on the big things we
share: our faith in God (summed up in the Apostles’ Creed) and our mission to
spread God’s love to the world.
But like all families, we’re not perfect; we still have our
fights. And like a lot of other churches over the past few decades, our biggest
fights are about human sexuality. Can
LGBTQ folks be members of the church? What about in leadership positions? What
about as pastors? Should people in loving, monogamous, same-sex relationships
be able to get married in the church? Isn’t this about equality? What about
what the Bible says? These are the kind of questions that get kicked around
in local church Sunday school classes as well as at the United Methodist global
conference that clarifies church doctrine and policy every 4 years. Too often,
though, these conversations end up in raised voices and ad hominem attacks. Too often, we rally around artificial labels
like “reconciling” and “confessing” and forget that we’re talking to and about people – other members of our family. After
years of debate, culminating in the rise of the so-called "biblical obedience" movement and high-profile church trials, I have to wonder: aren’t some of these old arguments becoming a bit
tired and worn out? Traditional
Christian: “The Bible says homosexuality is a sin!” Progressive Christian: “Jesus says to not judge and to love everybody!”
What if, instead of repeating one-liners and looking to
score political victories, we actually listened to each other? What if most
traditional Methodists really do love
and care about their LGBTQ friends and neighbors? What if most progressive
Methodists really do love and care
about the Bible? Could it be that we’ve forgotten the big things that unite us?
Could it be that our real differences come down, not to faithfulness and love,
but to interpretation and opinion? Could it be that we’ve not only forgotten
how to agree to disagree – but that we’ve also forgotten about the one thing
that makes us a family in the first place?
Amid growing calls for divorce, I refuse to choose sides in
a Divided Methodist Church. We are a family. Gay and straight. Traditional and
progressive. Hillary and Dubya. God is our Parent and we are all sisters and
brothers. We need each other. In spite of all of our arguments in the past, my
prayer is that one day soon, we’ll discover that all of our differences have quietly
faded into the background, leaving behind the thing that’s been there all
along. Then we’ll all be able to take a look around the Table and think to
ourselves, “This is my family. I love these people.”
“Dear friends, let’s
love each other, because love is from God, and everyone who loves is born from
God and knows God.” – 1 John 4:7
