Minding Your Own Business: Why Our Opposition to Others Says So Much about Us

So many. So angry. So often.

The people who need this most are least likely to read it. I accept that. Sadly. But it may be that you have some influence with them. If so, then that makes two (or more) of us trying to replace diatribe with dialogue. In fact, though, “diatribe” is too kind a word. Defined by Oxford Living Dictionaries, a diatribe is “a forceful and bitter verbal attack against someone or something.”

Enmity’s litany has become liturgy on social media. It is not just that hateful name-calling is so endlessly repeated. There is a predictable order of claims and counterclaims following every new development. And periodically, just as with liturgical churches’ adherence to the three-year rotation of the lectionary, we complete a cycle of all the cardinal doctrines on each side, only to begin again.

The attacks are forceful and bitter. But are these forceful and bitter verbal attacks truly against someone or something? This is where I think the Oxford definition fails us. Because the attacks are against hollow shells, mere emblems of underlying hatred. In logic class they call it “the straw-man argument” when we misrepresent another’s position in order to more easily defeat it. The “ad-hominem” argument goes a step further and misrepresents other human persons as being so inherently wrong that any statement they present must be impossible to support.

As in the two prior posts in this series, I advise us to engage one another in dialogue, and determine to overcome the misunderstandings, and certain the misrepresentations. Before I tell you why I choose to pursue these dialogues, let me offer the hope I see for a remedy.

Though the Oxford definition is inadequate to describe the full extent of these hateful exchanges, it is also where I believe we may find the remedy. We readily offer diatribe against either persons for holding impossible positions on the issues (at least the way our “straw-man” misrepresents them), or against issues as being impossible to support because of those affiliated with them (at least the way our “ad-hominem” attacks choose to willfully misunderstand them).  The remedy I recommend is a renewed pursuit of relationships, indeed fellowship. Not just within the limitations of Church fellowship, but on the basis of solidarity among all human persons as created to bear the image and likeness of one God eternally existing in three Persons. (See previous posts in this series for some context.)

What the Bible teaches about fellowship is helpful to acknowledge here. True fellowship cannot help but be authentic, transparent, and vulnerable. To be authentic, I believe, means that if I say it, it should be true. To be transparent means that if it is true, I should say it. And that clearly leaves me vulnerable, since many will disparage me for the positions I hold, and attack the positions themselves merely because I am the one holding them.

Why do it, then? I choose to pursue these dialogues, primarily because of the role to which Christians are called as ambassadors. We are supposed to be representing the nature and character of Jesus Christ in a culture where He is often both misunderstood and misrepresented. I am deeply troubled by both those misunderstandings and the misrepresentations. I am even more troubled by the fact that I recognize both those misunderstandings and misrepresentations in both groups: those who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ, and those who do not. Worse, I see those who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ willfully misrepresenting others’ positions, which suggests strongly that these “Christians” patently misunderstand the Lord they claim to serve.

And so, a secondary reason I pursue these dialogues so vigorously is this: so many others who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ are so deeply engaged in such vehement diatribe as to discourage mere contact with Christians. This means that those who may actually seek understanding and a representation of Jesus Christ are less likely to attend where such “followers” are more likely to gather (a lot of churches, mostly). As a result, all of us are effectively being excluded from environments in which the kind of fellowship I have described is most likely to occur.

So, in case I have not been clear, I will continue to pursue dialogue, even with those who continue to propagate diatribe. And when you ask, as you likely will, “Why are you sticking your nose into my business?” I will direct you to these three posts.

Inspection and Introspection: Stick Your Nose into My Business

Just where I'd invited you to put it!

In my last post, I expressed my belief that my fellowship with God through Christ is enhanced not only through fellowship with other Christians, but in the fellowship of non-Christians. Fellowship in that last category, of course, is not based on our mutual faith-decision to be followers of Jesus Christ. But I pursue it as a natural result of my belief in the solidarity of all human persons created, as I believe we are, to bear the image and likeness of one God, eternally existing in three Persons.

As I wrote before, while I have been contemplating this call to fellowship, my sense of integrity demands I do more than contemplate it. And yet I do not pursue this fellowship as consistently as I would like—even with those claiming to follow Jesus Christ. In fact, I sometimes find it easier to pursue understanding and agreement with non-Christians, where some imagine that fellowship should be less likely to occur. But I am often enlightened by those of you who disagree with me about the nature, character, and role of Jesus Christ in our history, present, and future. Why? Because I can only lead my life, make my choices, and face the consequences of the choices I make. From you and others, then, I gain greater perspective into the many lives I cannot lead, choices I cannot make, and consequences I will not face.

I admit, I do look at your life, your choices, and your consequences as cautionary rather than exemplary. That means I watch for warnings in your life that might help me avoid similar outcomes in my own. As a follower of Jesus Christ, I can be expected to consider your life, choices, and consequences as inescapably wrong. What you might not expect, however, is that I consider my own to be the same. I just hope to avoid the pit you dig, or at least recognize that I am digging a similar one, perhaps earlier, and perhaps with enough awareness to put down my shovel.

And that brings me to the repentance and confession portion of the program.

As part of our fellowship, I have not always been clear about inviting you to participate in the same kind of mutual inspection and introspection I have offered to you. To be clearer about that, here are two questions I think we each need to answer.

The first question has to do with the easier task of inspection: what do I see in you that leads me to wonder about, question, or even oppose you? It may be a belief or behavior, your position on an issue, or any number of other aspects, again, into which I might stick my nose.

The second question, though, is less inviting for me to consider because it requires introspection (inspecting myself): what do I see in myself about the issue you have raised? What is it in your position that leads me to wonder about, question, or even oppose my own view? I think that my emotional reactions to some things is primarily a means of avoiding this second question. I can get so upset over what I see in others that I am effectively distracted from asking whether I am as right as I think I am. And I do think I am. But I have been wrong about that, too.

Before this sounds like I am asking permission to be judgmental of you, remember that I want you asking the same questions of yourself, with regard to what you see, wonder about, question, or even oppose in me. In this way, we might engage in a fellowship that is authentic, transparent, and vulnerable—even if we are not mutual followers of Jesus Christ. I hope we can continue to attempt it.

As for those who claim to be mutual followers of Jesus Christ, there is more to say about the nature of a fellowship that is authentic, transparent, and vulnerable, and the terrible cost of doing so…that is only exceeded by a decision not to do so. More later.

Unifying Our Fragmenting Society – “Who Cares?”

In his recent blog post, “How Do You Get the U.S. off Life-Support?” (referring to the growing incivility in public discourse that has been exacerbated by the examples set before us during this most recent election cycle), Paul Louis Metzger (disclosure: Dr. Metzger is my faculty mentor in my doctoral program) notes the position taken by Dr. Robert Potter (again, disclosure: Dr. Potter is the other academician reader of my dissertation/ministry project paper). Drawing an analogy to palliative care (seeking to alleviate a patient’s symptoms and pain, separate from addressing curative measures), Dr. Potter seeks a solution to the pressing question, “What needs to be done?” by framing the questions “What am I missing?” and “Who am I missing?” These are essential questions. In pain management and end-of-life care, the holistic approach to the mental, emotional, spiritual, and social dynamics of the patient and their family can often be even more important than the physical processes being treated.

As I have written elsewhere, addressing these multiple areas of concern is difficult, requiring in hospice care an interdisciplinary team that (by law) must at least include a physician, a medical social worker, and a pastoral counselor/chaplain in addition to the hospice manager. The intensive and extensive level of care provided through hospice during the final weeks and months of life is nearly impossible to provide elsewhere. Likewise, it often may seem as though the answers to “What am I missing?” and “Who am I missing?” are not only daunting in the depths of their complexity, they may be endless in breadth. It may seem impossible to determine, much less include all that is missing, and all who are missing from the equation. In such cases, we may be tempted to take license to disengage from the process, allowing ourselves the escape clause: “We’ve done all that we can do.”

Why would I demand of us that we try any harder than that—either in treating a dying patient or in seeking to bring unity to a fragmenting society? Because I believe that beneath the questions “What am I missing?” and “Who am I missing?” lies a motivation that is, in my experience, so often unclear in both discussions. The question “Why is this pursuit so terribly important to you?” might be boiled down cynically to “Who cares?” But whether conservative or liberal, whether focused more exclusively on any few or encompassing all the “moral intuitions” that Dr. Potter cites (care, fairness, liberty, loyalty, authority, and sanctity), the answer is simply this: “You care.” For different reasons, at different levels, and from sometimes vastly divergent perspectives, it is impossible to deny that we have clear and passionate positions on most of the issues being discussed.

If you doubt whether you have such passions, simply put yourself in the place of those who are adversely affected by any of the issues. Start by asking yourself what levels of pain relief and symptom management (think uncontrollable nausea, for example) you would be willing to forego if your hospice team needed to cut back on their agency’s overtime. Questions of healthcare rationing may bore you. But faced with a decision on whether to pursue expensive treatments that have only the most miniscule chance of curing your disease? You may find yourself paying closer attention to the discussion.

The unifying issue for many participating in hospice care, as providers as well as for patients and their families, is that we generally acknowledge the reality of mortality. We not only provide care to the dying and bereaved, we number ourselves among them. Even when we are not among the most imminently dying, we willingly bereave ourselves, intentionally forming close personal friendships with people we know are going to die soon. The unity we find in that mutual mortality and shared grief allows us to discuss matters that nearly all others in our circles of influence work hard to avoid. (Most of them wish that we would avoid those topics, too.) But in caring about the issues, despite divergent positions, relative to hospice care, we are unified by our commitment to solidarity with and around the patient and their soon-to-be-bereaved family, knowing that we eventually will be one or the other or both.

So next, in the broader conversation about our national priorities, I would ask that you think about liberties you particularly enjoy. Would you care if they were being as maligned and restricted as those of others? Try considering your economic well-being threatened by those who would re-zone their neighborhoods to eradicate “your kind.” Imagine your religious affiliation (or lack thereof) as a reason to discredit and persecute you. And visualize yourself amidst the confrontation that would occur if armed authorities denied you your right to express your position on these or any other matters. You do care…if it’s your ox that’s being gored.

We all care. We merely subvert our engagement of these issues behind a pretense of apathy. Apathy, the lack of caring, is not what I find to be the cause of inaction. Instead, we choose not to engage on the basis of what I would call the economy of futility. We do not invest in solutions because we believe the problems to be insoluble. Therefore, we fail to recognize the undeniable unity of our concerns. At their core, our conflicts are universally compelling, if only we would admit how much we care about our own positions on the issues.

Will we agree on these positions? If you demand that I agree with your position, or I demand that you agree with mine, probably not. But we must agree, if we will admit that these are issues on which we each cannot help but have positions. Then, and perhaps only then, we might be willing to listen, understand, and collaborate in ways that resolve our conflicting positions on the issues themselves. Only then can we claim that “we’ve done all that we can do.”

No Apologies, Part One – Why you should say No to those who say they’re sorry.

Feel free to submit in triplicate to the offended party.

I’m tired of hearing “I’m sorry.” Before you apologize for having said “I’m sorry,” please bear with my own apology for being so slow to admit how annoying I find it. In part, it’s because I’ve lost patience with those who abuse the privilege. So many apologize so constantly for repeating the same bad behaviors that I’ve come to recognize three particular kinds of apology—and I believe we are best served by declining, rejecting, or even rebuking each of them.

Not the most popular rack at Hallmark. Most prefer to write their own.

The Non-Apology Apology – Sports fans and other celebrity-cultists quickly become familiar with the non-apology apology. There are several phrasings, but the blame-shifting remains the same. You’ve heard, no doubt, some form of “I apologize to anyone who may have been hurt by reports of my actions.” Clearly, the fault lies not with the perpetrator of domestic violence, sexual assault, drunk driving, racist ranting, or whatever other egregious behavior is in view. No, the problem is caused either by those who reported the actions or, just as frequently, those whose sensibilities are too fragile to withstand another onslaught against their hopes for upholding basic societal standards.

This would make a nice insert with your choice of card from above.

The non-apology apology is the most popular of the apologies, mostly because each instance is broadcast to millions of potential imitators. Others, like the two below, are experienced more personally.

The Apology as Reset-Button – If you’ve been offered a series of apologies, each one more elaborate, for behaviors that become more egregious with each new instance, then you likely recognize the pattern that accompanies abusive, bullying, or otherwise manipulative relationships. You recognize the echoes of “I’m so sorry. That will never happen again.” You also know the threat or pain that prohibits you from pointing out that it has happened again. Early on, perhaps you incurred the protest, “Why do you keep bringing that up? I said I’m sorry that I do that.” Now, you see no need to hear again that “You need to learn to accept it; that’s just how I am.” You’re supposed to have reset your level of tolerance for another’s behavior to accept yet another new low. You can still object, but only when behaviors surpass the severity of those already apologized for (no matter how often the behavior is repeated). In fact, you’ve probably been made to apologize for pointing out that the other person’s prior apologies appear to have effected no change in their behavior.

Apology Bingo: Works just as well with "Law and Order" episodes
as it does with ESPN's Sportcenter.

Declining to accept an apology seems impolite, but please don’t apologize. Not even if you want to use this last type of apology and tell me why you don’t really need to apologize at all.

The Rationalizing Apology – This pattern actually comes closest to the classic definitions of “apology” as providing a defense or explanation for one’s behavior. The reason I recommend rejecting it as an apology is that it eludes any responsibility for changing that behavior, especially around the person to whom the behavior is being explained. “You know I would never have done that if I hadn’t been so…” angry, or drunk, or tired, or stressed, or surprised, or whatever other mitigating factors explain and excuse my decision to behave badly toward you. Often, this apology saddles the person who is supposed to accept the apology with the responsibility for the bad behavior. If you don’t want to endure it again, then you must change the circumstances that led to it. This differs from the Non-Apology Apology in that it admits that the behavior itself is offensive or damaging. But in some ways it is worse, shifting responsibility and all but guaranteeing a repetition of the behavior at whatever point circumstances warrant it.

Am I saying that you should not accept an apology? Yes. Am I saying not to forgive those who say, “I’m sorry,” especially if they repeat it often? Yes. But if we were to refuse one another’s apologies, then what do we do about the misunderstandings, offenses and other damage we do in the course of our relationships?

We’ll discuss that in part two.

But you should be warned: Part Two gets even more direct about the alternative to apologies.

Toward Taking “Roast Pastor” off of the Sunday Lunch Menu – or at least shutting down the poisonous fountain of anonymous criticisms

This is a roast "al pastor." No actual pastors 
were harmed in the making of this blog post.

What’s on the menu? Well, if it’s a Sabbath afternoon (I was going to say “Sunday,” but I’m assuming that my Seventh-Day Adventist friends engage in the same behaviors.), you can safely bet that at least a handful or two in any given community (if not every congregation every Sabbath) are having “roast pastor” for lunch. Rarely, though, does this occur if the pastor is actually at the table, of course. And some don’t choose to air their concerns, questions, or comments so publicly. Not that they always bring their criticisms directly to the pastor’s office. No, as Thom Rainer has discussed (You can find his post here: http://thomrainer.com/2014/12/17/one-sentence-pastors-church-staff-hate-hear/.), most will hide behind the seven deadliest words you can fire at a pastor, “I thought you should know, someone said….” The sentence has other forms. But whatever words are used, they can sentence the pastor to agonizing over every detail of every sermon, each encounter, all the missed connections, and an unlimited imagination of unmet expectations, any one of which can lead a pastor to distraction, discouragement, and despair. Or they can lead to a pastor reacting bitterly, withdrawing emotionally, and/or writing yet another “Monday-morning resignation letter.”

This office says "Yes, I've spent tens of thousands on my education, 
but please, do share your thoughts about my eschatological errors."

(Note to pastors: if you get in the regular habit of writing and deleting “Monday-morning resignation letters,” you’re probably moving past any therapeutic value to be found in the exercise. In fact, you’re probably starting to more fully contemplate sending out your resume. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t. But when you reach the point where it’s a frequent practice, don’t pretend that “come Tuesday, it’ll be alright.”)

Again, though, as Rainer points out, it doesn’t have to be this way. He explores the reasons and suggests a way to shut down such behavior. In my experience, though, his approach may simply bottle up the criticism by refusing to hear it. As with other home-made fermentation projects, sometimes that results in a more mature vintage, and sometimes it results in an explosion. I would advocate a slightly different approach that I believe more fully addresses the pastoral responsibility to those who feel compelled to share “someone’s” critique of the pastor, or of any other victim.

This one? "The pastor will be right back, just as soon as 
he's done meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Ministry Staff."

(“Victim? Really, Pastor? Isn’t that overstating it?” Please understand. I see this behavior, however well-intentioned, and however accurate the criticisms may be, as gossip. And I see gossip as sin. It is sin against God, but also against whomever you make the target of your gossip. If you read on, I think my reasons will be clear for holding this rare and extreme position—that sin is a bad thing. So don’t stop when you get to the part where you get offended and want to come tell me, “Pastor, some people read your blog, and they’re saying….”)

From my first year in my first pastorate, I have taken a wise mentor’s advice and “gone straight at the problem.” After a couple of months there, serving a congregation consisting of (in the words of the denomination’s district staff) the dozen or so who’d “spent the past twenty years running the other two hundred off,” I proposed to the board that we purchase a church van. “It has to have eleven seats, though,” I told them. “Because the next time one of you comes to me and says, ‘Well, I heard that…’ or ‘Someone was saying…’ that person gets to ride shotgun, and we’re going to drive to whomever it was that shared the gossip with them. Assuming that person was passing along something they’d heard from someone else, we’ll load them up and keep heading upstream against the flow of poison. There’s only twelve of us in this church, so when the eleven of us arrive at the last doorstep, I’ll know that someone knows who said what.”

"Welcome. Come on in...but first, you might want to 
tie some pomegranates to your pants cuffs."

In a pastor’s busy schedule, it can be hard to imagine that there’s time for this much attention to the negativity. But the damage can be immense. Rainer explains its effects so well that I won’t repeat it all here. You’ve got the link to his blog above. But the result, for him, was that “I got to the point where I did not entertain such veiled criticisms. I tried to be polite and say, ‘I am sorry, but I cannot listen to you further because you will not give me the specific sources of the concerns.’” Rainer’s approach is sound advice from a psychological pain-management perspective. It also fits the practice of efficient “pastoral administration.” But that last phrase is in quotes because I don’t believe it’s a real thing. The term is an oxymoron—a statement that contradicts itself (like “hot water heater,” or being “clearly misunderstood,” which occurs between my wife and me sometimes when we are “alone together”). There are administrative duties to be fulfilled in the function of any congregation of believers. But it is “prayer and the ministry of the word” (Acts 6:4 – and the functions of Ephesians 4:11ff and elsewhere) that should be the substance of anything we call pastoral ministry.

I'd love this furniture in my office, but I can't afford 
the brandy and cigars to go with it.

So how do I prayerfully apply the Word to those claiming to represent an anonymous coalition of critics?

Several scriptures explain our mutual responsibility for one another in the body of Christ. As I see it, if you don’t choose to address what you see as my errors, then you can’t legitimately claim to love me. Sending someone else (or pretending that you represent someone else) doesn’t make your actions any more loving, or any less sinful.

Here’s two passages in particular that come to mind, about your responsibility to me as a fellow-Christian.

If anyone sees his brother committing a sin not leading to death, he shall ask and God will for him give life to those who commit sin not leading to death. There is a sin leading to death; I do not say that he should make request for this. (I John 5:16, NASB)

My brethren, if any among you strays from the truth and one turns him back, let him know that he who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (James 5:19-20, NASB)

The most detailed approach, though, come directly from the lips of Jesus. I refer to it as “The Matthew 18 Protocol” as a shorthand for “Don’t be coming in here with that ‘somebody said’ nonsense.”

“If your brother sins, go and show him his fault in private; if he listens to you, you have won your brother. But if he does not listen to you….” (Matthew 18:15-18, NASB)

"Why, yes, our pastor DID talk about Matthew 18...
right before he left."

There are further instructions there, of course. But it all starts with obedience to the command of Christ. We are called to pursue that first step toward being clear on what the criticism is, while honoring the relationship Jesus assumes will be not only maintained, but deepened. At some point in the first three stages, Jesus offer hope of reconciling the parties. The fourth only applies when the object of the criticism is entirely recalcitrant. (Assuming, of course that the criticism is found to be valid. Be sure to look at the passage Jesus is quoting. Deuteronomy 19:15-21 addresses the possibility of inaccurate criticisms and false accusations as well.)

What does this look like in the actual practice of pastoral ministry? If someone cares enough to bring their concerns (whoever’s concerns they may claim them to be) to the pastor, then I assume they care enough to want to handle matters in a Biblical manner. So, when they’ve explained what others have passed along to them, I ask some form of this question:  

“So, before we go to meet with them, how did it go when you confronted them about their gossiping? How far into the Matthew 18 Protocol are we?”

///

So, now you have read my blog. And you may want to tell me what “someone” thinks about it. I’d appreciate it, though, if you’d be kind and loving enough to identify yourself in your comments, so that we can work together on resolving any conflicts and maintaining, even deepening, our relationship. Thanks in advance for your example of obedience to Christ.

Diplomacy Made Easy – But, “You’re Gonna Need a Bigger Boat”

It's never too soon to get that bigger boat.

I am a bully. It has been almost half a century since I was beating up fellow-first-graders at the bus stop each morning. But I am still a bully.

Of course, like all bullies, I don’t bully everyone all the time. There’s plenty of room for bystanders. I don’t mind a few sycophantic followers who smile and nod in agreement, even if they have no idea what the fight is about. And you’re unlikely to get into my crosshairs, unless you disagree. Even then, you may not identify what was done to you as bullying. Even if you have the slightest hint, you wouldn’t dare say so. Not because I would bully you even more (though that’s a possibility). You wouldn’t speak up because most of the bystanders, and certainly the sycophants, would tell you “That’s not bullying.”

You see, my skills fall into categories which most don’t readily recognize as bullying behaviors. I usually don’t have to apply more than a small portion of my excessive education, esoteric vocabulary, and/or labyrinthine logic in order to overwhelm you. The result, though, is rarely agreement, and almost never any kind of collaboration that would deepen our relationship. You don’t have to admit I’m right for me to win. As with many competitive enterprises, I don’t have to convince you. There’s no need to force a concession of my argument’s superiority. Most of the time, I just have to keep talking until those who disagree decide “enough is enough,” and quit the argument.

This Historical Policy

I’m unlikely to stop being a bully. Even among those whose neurons store far less information, or whose synapses fire less quickly, there is ample evidence in favor of successfully bullying others. And I can hardly be expected to withstand the peer pressure. Most of those in my faith tradition can’t bring bigger brains to the table. But we do have the greater numbers and social influence that comes with being the dominant majority. And even where we have atrophied any thought processes we may once have had, there are still a handful of leaders who are more than willing to do our thinking for us. In fact, I aspire to be one of them. I think I’ll probably succeed at it. Do you dare disagree?

The Contemporary Practice

It’s not just the ballot box where my tribe’s greater resources are brought to bear. Public demonstrations, fundraising, broadcast and publishing media outlets, and some of the more vehement social media positions all rely on nothing more than the sheer numbers who are willing to agree…rather than find themselves bullied by the majority.

In world politics, those with greater economies, larger populations, and/or more advanced technologies get to enforce their will over others, even while pretending to invite collaboration, to offer an opportunity for agreement, or simply to demand acquiescence—or else. The practice used to involve literally parking a fleet of the dominant nation’s warships off the coast of those to be bullied into submission. Air superiority was the preference for awhile, and now we can cripple most others through economic sanctions and/or selective assassination. But it’s still rightly called “Gunboat Diplomacy.”

"I'm sorry, you'd prefer I do what?"

I like it. And I like it, not just because my brain works well enough that my bullying doesn’t involve actual threats of violence. I like the idea of Gunboat Diplomacy because I know some bullies who seem unlikely to stop their bullying unless another bully brings their bigger boat between them and the targets of their bullying behaviors. Three in particular come to mind.

One of them is the wife-beating rapist who wants the courts to amend his child custody arrangements. That’s unlikely to happen. His work schedule would frequently put the children under the care of the matriarch whose incestuous household has bred narcissistic entitlement into each of the males I’ve met. My wife and I have met two of the females, too—both victimized by their own brothers. Still, my friend’s ex-husband has the means to pursue his day in court, to prolong the process indefinitely, and to hope that in the absence of alimony and other support payments he’s forestalling, she will run out of money, lose her lawyer, and simply have to give up. It might work. Unless someone has a better idea.

Sometimes you're not so worried about the "concealed" part.

Another I’d like to bully is the drug-dealer who was recently released. One of his convictions was for having beaten his domestic partner…again. The last straw was when he finally beat her in front of her offspring. He’s out, but she has a restraining order. There are also protective orders as a result of the criminal case. Yet somehow probation approved his new place of residence. It’s true that among the consequences of battering your domestic partner is the need to change your place of residence. But he could not have gone back to “her place,” because it wasn’t her place any more. Because she had allowed him to beat her, she was evicted by her landlord. She couch-surfed until a few weeks ago when she finally got into an apartment again. Why is all this important? Because the address her abuser gave his probation officer as his new residence—yes, he gave them her new address. How he got it? Why no one checked it? What she’s supposed to do to protect herself? No one seems to know. But I have an idea.

It’s the same idea that comes to mind whenever I face the reality of the next few months of negotiations and interviews with probation officers and therapists over the release of a convicted child-pornography trafficker. If the most recent two prior releases are any indicator, he will request permission to attend services, and there will be hours of paperwork and phone calls back and forth on the conditions, stipulations, restrictions, and supervision necessary to accommodate his rights in this area. I believe in hope. But I also believe in recidivism. I believe in redemptive purposes. And I believe that a little bullying might be just what’s necessary to prevent a sixth conviction. I do justify my frustrations, however, along with the difficulty of summoning any willingness to help facilitate his return to fellowship. How do I justify anything less than providing the greatest possible assistance to him? By remembering that preparations and follow-up on the previous two releases that were on my watch (of the four, total, so far) took more days to complete than the number of days he was actually free…before reoffending and returning to yet another imprisonment. Is there any reason to go through all that again? Well, not if someone has  a better idea.

Here’s the better idea I allow myself to imagine: I want to use my bigger boat to enforce my will on the perpetrators in each of these situations. I can think of several effective ways I could persuade then to make some accommodation of my position. Those victimized by these predators would greatly appreciate it, I know. In a community known for outrageously long response-times and malignant inattention to any needs so far from the county seat…well, if no one will dissuade them who’s to dissuade me?

...at your own risk.

So, why don’t I simply bully these bullies into finding someone else to bully?

Here’s why: for Gunboat Diplomacy to work, you have to be sure you have the biggest boat. And I never will. Neither will you. There’s only One who guarantees that His boat is biggest and best, and it utterly blows out of the water all the rest of my petty fantasies about threats, intervention, retribution, vengeance or other more violent means of correction. (I admit, though, the phrase from my training many years ago keeps echoing: “Continue firing until the threat is eliminated.” My gunsmith tells me that the law in California, even if I were still serving with law enforcement, requires something a little different. But I’ll bet it’s still true that “personal safety trumps department policy.”)

So, am I saying that we should allow matters to take their course in hopes that God will protect the victims and smite the miscreants? No. I’m saying that I’m a miscreant. So are you. And before we start loading up, cocked and locked, looking for the justification to end any one of these conflicts, we might want to look to the true nature of the conflict. It’s sin. And sin has never overcome sin. I can’t stop their sin by committing my own. Even if my aim were as true as it used to be, their sin would survive them, having been adopted and furthered by me—the one who claims to hate the damage they’re doing by their sin, so much so that I might sin in order to stop it?.

The real solution is not so satisfying a fantasy. It is not so gratifying a pursuit. It is not as directly effective as a magazine or two of .45 ACP would be. But the real solution happens to be the biggest boat we’ve got. There’s probably a children’s church song to be written about this…except for the handgun part, of course. “Jesus has a big, big boat, and He’s loaded it with love.”

And so I will seek an answer to the question “What would Jesus have me do?” I will continue to love, provide for, and—only when absolutely necessary—protect those victimized by others like me. And I will admit that the same traits I see in these criminals make it easier for me to love them, whenever I admit that they are very much “neighbors” to be loved because they are so very much “like myself.”

Mutually Beneficial Interrogators: An Approach to Interfaith Friendships

My favorite radio format: What's In It For Me?

(Trigger Warning: Elements of this blog post make me want to take distinctly undiplomatic actions toward those perpetrating particularly egregious offenses against the human personhood of certain friends of mine. You may have a similar reaction toward those individuals—which I would recommend against acting upon—or a more serious reaction to the mere mention of their particular offenses. Please consider carefully whether you should read this post at this particular time.)

My friend, colleague, professor, mentor, and idol (depending as much upon my mood as the particular context), Paul Louis Metzger is associated with the Foundation for Religious Diplomacy. The foundation recommends “approaching adherents of the respective faith traditions as ‘trustworthy rivals’ rather than as perfect, homogenous matches made in heaven.” (Dr. Metzger’s post on the topic is found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2013/11/trustworthy-rivals-on-an-alternative-path-to-multi-faith-discourse/#ixzz3QQGk0I8b.)

Pick one you don't recognize. Discover something about yourself.

At the end of his post, he asks, “Which would you rather be toward those of other faiths? A trustworthy rival, a mean-spirited and scheming enemy (like a former spouse), or a platonic and possibly even unscrupulous bedfellow? Can you think of other options?” My problem is that I cannot stop thinking about the options he presents. The imagery that comes to mind of “platonic bedfellows” is of those unscrupulous young men who complain about being relegated to “The Friend Zone,” as though their expectation of being kind, gentle men who treat women with egalitarian respect should be repaid for their friendship with some sort of benefits. The more recent encounters I have had with mean-spirited and scheming former spouses are seeking to resume abusive relationships, and violating restraining orders in hopes of whining, wheedling, cajoling, demanding, and threatening their way “back to normal.”

But of all the options Metzger suggests, the one that elicits the most repugnant memories is that of “a trustworthy rival.” I know that this is supposed to be “the right answer,” of course. But I don’t know why, any more than the intimidated Sunday Schooler who responded to her teacher’s badgering questions. “Come on, class, it’s not that hard a question. I live in a tree; I eat acorns; I have a bushy gray tail.” Her answer, “I know the answer’s supposed to be ‘Jesus,’ but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me!”

Unless, of course, you find someone to show you yours.

“A trustworthy rival?” Perhaps it’s my continued struggle with abandonment issues and the difficulty imagining that I should trust anyone with the authenticity, transparency, and vulnerability I try to live out in Christian integrity. But “trustworthy” doesn’t work for me. I don’t trust my fellow Christians. I make do with trusting Christ enough to compensate for putting myself at risk from what other Christians say and do. As for any rivals? In the context of poverty and scarcity, I want to know what it is we’re rivalling one another to obtain.

Rather than belabor my reactions further, I will say that there is great value in building friendships among those of differing religious and spiritual traditions. The advantage over Christian friendships is that followers of Jesus tend to believe that we all believe quite similarly, if not identically. In counseling, this is called “projection,” the assumption that others, especially where others fit our stereotypes and prejudices about ourselves, will believe and behave as we do.

Know friends, know yourself.

I would call the relationship between me and non-Christians friends one of “mutually-beneficial interrogators.” In the chart I remember from Psych 101 texts, what I know about myself extends beyond what others would know of me by observation. Likewise, though, what others know about me extends beyond what I would know of myself as well. Perfect strangers may ask of each other, “Why do you believe or behave as you do?” But where we develop friendships with those who refuse to assume that whatever they believe must also be our belief, the cumulative effects of such conversations reveal to them the answers to their questions, but may also reveal observations (and questions about them) of our beliefs and behaviors that would otherwise remain hidden from us.

So, when you see something about me that raises a question, please feel free to ask. Not only might your curiosity be gratified by my response, I may actually get to see something about myself that I would not have otherwise noticed! (For instance…my seething bitterness toward wife-beating rapists whose incestuous family members continue to fund their child-custody lawsuits…my overreaction to “mean-spirited and scheming ex-spouses” helped me realize where that comes from! Thanks, Paul.)

“Fear Not” – But, really, if you really knew me, you’d know you should.

Should be road signs: "Warning! Human Beings."

Sometimes it helps to “announce yourself” so that those you’re addressing can categorize your positions more quickly. Otherwise, we would have to listen to one another in detail, rather than more quickly avoiding or affiliating with others according to our preconceived assumptions.

In short, if someone appears to agree with my position on a given issue, then I don’t have to listen to them—I know that what they think will be just the same as what I think. Likewise, if they appear to disagree with my position, however many other positions there may be, well…honestly, I don’t have much need to explore all the details of how wrong they are.

So, here’s my self-categorizing announcement by which you can identify and avoid any positions on any issues I hold. Why am I so sure I’ll be ostracized? Because I am…(wait for it)….

I am a human being.

That’s all you need to know. On the basis of that simple fact you can safely dismiss anything I say as irrelevant to your personal positions on any and all issues. I say this with complete confidence, but not because I believe you to be entirely misanthropic (i.e., a hater of all humanity). In fact, because you, too, are a human being, I would imagine that you love all of humanity, even those who disagree with your positions on any or all issues. Why would I imagine that to be your position? Because that is the position I claim to hold as well. Granted, you may disagree with my position on this issue—this presumably universal love of all humanity. Maybe you are a misanthrope. But since I love that about you (at least in that condescendingly pitying sense by which we all say we love stray animals, but avoid touching their potentially disease-carrying fur), I can only assume that you must love my love for humanity.

So, if you do love me so, then why would you dismiss me? One reason could be that I recommend it. Yes, I think that dismissing me and my positions would be commendable.

A dagger and blindfolded hostage hardly says "Trust me."

Granted, you may not appreciate my recommendation. You may feel manipulated by it and choose to do its opposite, unless you consider that to be the intention of my manipulation. Then, you should really choose to take my recommendation, since I might also know you would react negatively to my manipulation. So, accept my recommendation, or not, if you dare, either way. (If you’re not lost in that circle-of-reasoning yet, then you’ll enjoy just about any YouTube video discussing Iocaine Powder. Go ahead. We’ll wait here for you. There’s even a correlation of the scene to Hegelian Dialectics.)

Despite the fact that you’ve probably already accepted or rejected my recommendation (to dismiss me, my positions, etc.) on the basis of your own predetermined preferences, I still feel compelled to explain why it would be good to avoid me, and other human beings as well.

Simply stated, we’re dangerous.

There it is. Human beings are dangerous. We take simple observations, compile them into stereotypes, and proceed to process one another according to our prejudices, whether positive or negative. Even when we are too young to effectively categorize others, we use others to create our categories. Parents are first and worst, of course. But extended families, friends, playmates, and others soon reinforce our assumptions about “how people are,” even before we can differentiate between “our people” and “other people,” much less “me” and “everyone else.”

Yes, mark your calendars. I agree with Oscar Wilde.

So if, in our earliest perceptions, we are not prejudging others by our previous experience, then we are still categorizing others in our current experience for future reference. Diabolical, really. Why? Because, in doing so, I allow only myself to be the fully functional, creatively complex individual human person I was designed to be. And, since I do, I know that you do, too. At least for yourself. In contrast, I assume that you, from my perspective, are only marginally more than a cardboard cutout. Your behavior may appear unpredictable, or even unique at times. But that perception passes as soon as I am out of your immediate presence. Then, in my memory, you go right back to being exactly as I imagine you to be, just like everyone else.

Again, though, why is that dangerous? Because I will eventually incorporate my experience of your unpredictability into the stereotype that supports my prejudices toward you. And if you continue to surprise me, I will be left with limited options.

I could, of course, adopt the view that other human beings are unpredictable and, in various ways, unique. The mental effort required by continuous dialogue and adjustment to others’ unpredictability, however, would be unjustifiably great, even before it is compounded by the dozens of individual human beings each of us encounters each day.

This could work. If "Meals-on-Wheels" delivers here.

This leaves me with only two options. First, I could withdraw entirely from human society. Sadly, my hunter-gatherer skill-set eliminates the hermit lifestyle from serious consideration. So, the second is really the only reasonable choice: I will seek to marginalize, depersonalize, exploit, oppress, and even enslave you by relating to you only when you fit neatly into my preconceived categories.

Thankfully, as a human being, you will most likely cooperate in the process. Your need to be accepted by others motivates you to eat, drink, dress, style, perfume, walk, ride, drive, and generally live in readily identifiable categories that allow my prejudices to be reinforced by the stereotypes you choose. You know, I would do the same for you. In fact, I do. (Another subject for another time: what do my Cabela’s slacks and oxford-cloth button down shirts communicate about me?)

So, whether you’re responding to my stereotype or I’m responding to yours, there are myriad dangers. So, if you choose to do so, work into it gradually and be sure you’ve built up an immunity…not to Iocaine Powder, but the even more poisonous possibility of being human.

Satire, Sarcasm, Mockery, and Ridicule: What if we saw these as an invitation to pursue clearer communication and closer relationships?

If he can see an invitation in THIS communication...

In a recent post to the blog “Uncommon God; Common Good,” entitled “Tis the Season All Year Round: ‘Collective Atheism’ and the Collective Good” (It can be found here: xxxxx, along with links to journalistic reports of the event.), John W. Morehead and Paul Louis Metzger review the “irreligious invocation” delivered, by invitation of the Lake Worth, Florida city commission, by an “atheist activist,” Preston Smith. In doing so, they offer suggestions to both the atheist and Evangelical “collectives” regarding a more diplomatic engagement as each, and many other sides express themselves “in the public square.” Primarily, in seeking the common good of the broader communities in which we serve, Morehead and Metzger recommend against the tendency toward confrontation. I was left, however, without a clear sense of the positive direction we are to pursue instead. What follows is my attempt to supply just such a remedy for, and alternative to, those confrontations.

...and even silence opens opportunity here...

As demonstrated in Preston Smith’s “invocation” before the Lake Worth, Florida city commission (see above for links to that discussion), what one may intend as satire can easily slide south past sarcasm into mere mockery or even reviling ridicule. Unfortunately, a similar patter afflicts Christians of my acquaintance, whom I would hold to a higher standard, based on their claim to be influenced by the indwelling Holy Spirit of God. And yet, too often, variations in our perceptions, even those resulting in only minor differences of perspective on a given issue, lead us beyond disagreement into divisive derision. The same holds true among my non-Christian friends as well. The lists of “forbidden subjects” can quickly extend far beyond religion and politics. In many important areas, we leave no room for authentic dialogue, much less reasoned discourse.

But those who claim to follow Christ are called to something better. If we are to collectively pursue the common good (and I believe community service ministry is an indispensable component of the Christian faith, and even more so when we can cooperate with those already engaged in specific areas of need), then we would do well as Christians to start by developing a better process for opening dialogue with one another. Perhaps then this pattern might assist us in communicating with those outside our faith communities as well. But my first, greatest hope for employing a more diplomatic means of discussion is for a greater unity in the whole of the Church, the body of Christ. This is the unity for which Christ prayed in John 17:20-23 as being indispensable to the clarity and authenticity of the proclamation and practice of the gospel.

...then it shouldn't surprise us that Matalin & Carville...

When conversation does reveal conflicting viewpoints, why do we so quickly disengage, withdrawing from both the topic, changing the subject, and—where the topic is of significance to us, withdrawing from those whose perceptions and perspectives differ from our own? Social Psychologist Christena Cleveland would ascribe the root cause to our desire to be cognitive misers. In short, we would rather not complicate our lives and use valuable mental energy when we could just as easily resort to stereotypes, prejudices, and behavior patterns that keep us from having to reconsider our previously established positions on any given issue.

...or Begin and Sadat find common ground together.

I would ascribe our motivation to a more base emotion, though. Fear. We fear the possibility that our limited perspective (whether we admit that it is limited or not) may have resulted in an incomplete perception on which we have drawn conclusions, made decisions, formed relationships, joined organizations, and perhaps even applied bumper stickers. Our fear demands that we fight or flee. So, we withdraw. Or, we address our conflicting perceptions competitively, choosing confrontation rather than conversation. Better to flee than fight, some would imagine. But if we can train ourselves to recognize the invitation to dialogue inherent in such confrontations, we may find opportunities to engage one another as persons, rather than positions.

To do so, we must remember that confrontation is always reductionistic in at least two ways. First, the point of conflict is reduced to a mere caricature denying that we might have any overlapping complexities in our perceptions or common ground beneath our perspective. We demonstrate, and even exaggerate our otherness in order to clearly define our “distinct viewpoint” from another’s “mistaken assumptions.” Second, confrontation also reduces those holding an opposing perspective on any issue to a mere caricature of personhood. Instead of the complexities and nuances we routinely allow ourselves, we identify others my whatever label popularly represents their position, as though that one position on that one issue defines their character, background, potential and value.

Conflicting viewpoints need not result in confrontation. But even when they do, when others may resort to satire, sarcasm, mockery, or ridicule (and especially when we are the ones who have done so), it represents an opportunity to pursue the issue in question as an invitation. The methodology is simple.

Of course, sometimes you have to let others in on an inside joke.

Try to politely clarify what you understand the other person to have said. I believe it’s appropriate to begin with, “I understand you’re employing a keen sense of irony and the absurd” (which is a kinder way of noting their tone as being sarcastic or worse). But whether including that observation or not, we seek to communicate that “what I’m understanding from that is….” Even when the response is rude, harsh, dismissive, or otherwise difficult to view as an invitation to further dialogue, I have found it helpful to respond to even the worst statements with, “How do you mean?”

There’s more, of course. I believe that the Matthew 18 Protocol (Matthew 18:15-18) can be applied to non-Christians as well as Christians. The New Testament, especially, offers a number of strategies for addressing those who were not just disagreeing with the Apostles, but who openly opposed them at times. But my point here is to emphasize that the decision by others to address a particular issue, even in satire, sarcasm, mockery, and/or ridicule, should be responded to as an invitation to dialogue in which broader understanding can bring the topic of conflict into sharper focus and, even in the absence of agreement on the particular issue, lead us to recognize the concerns, character, and complexities that often overlap and even coincide with our own.

Countdown to Christmas Conversations: An Invitation to Consider the Character of the Christ – Part Five – The Just and Righteous Government

Upholding it all.

This is the sixth in a series of posts discussing my belief in Jesus as the Messiah, in hopes of fostering understanding of my spirituality, and encouraging others to share their own perspectives on spirituality (defined broadly as the means by which we derive meaning from life and assign value to its elements). For more about why I find the discussion of our spirituality to be so important, especially as we countdown to Christmas, please see the initial post in the series. (Found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations.html)

Atlas trumped by "whole world in His hands."

As I discussed in the last post, Christians are called to be at peace, and to be peace-makers. And yet, we are among the most divisive and territorial groups, even against those with whom we should find the greatest agreement. If we serve the Prince of Peace, then why is there such little peace, even for Christians? Because, simply, too few Christians live as loyal subjects of the King of kings and Lord of lords. We do not practice the presence of the Prince of Peace.

For one thing, we do not apply the protocol Jesus prescribed for conflict resolution and relational reconciliation. The four stages Jesus prescribes in Matthew 18:15-18 require us to prioritize two goals. The first and foremost goal is relational reconciliation. He prays for unity in the body of Christ in John 17:20-21 as the means by which others will recognize His coming. But relational reconciliation is contingent on the second goal: conflict resolution. By “resolving conflict” I do not mean that we must come to agreement on every issue. But it is essential that we commit to an accurate focus and a detailed resolution (in the sense of the resolution of photographs or computer monitors). The real question is: do we clearly see the actual points of conflict?

But there is a second factor preventing us from ever approaching a clear understanding of the conflict(s), much less an relational reconciliation. Why do we ignore or even willfully avoid Jesus’ protocol in Matthew 18? In short, we are afraid. We fear the cost and consequences of each of the four stages of the Matthew 18 protocol. It is a simple matter to confront another’s beliefs or behaviors, so long as there is no opportunity for rebuttal, much less correction of my misperception or misunderstanding. I would prefer to have others simply alter their course to accommodate the beliefs, behaviors, ministries, and life to which I have already become accustomed. But the second stage Jesus prescribes, where He calls us to involve witnesses, involves the potential for those witnesses to exonerate the one I accuse, and to point out my inequity (and iniquity) instead.

Not knocking to get in, but to ask for an accounting.

Why won’t we pay the relatively minor cost of admitting we might be wrong? Because we do not fully grasp the consequences of failing to engage one another’s perspectives and reconciling ourselves together. We do not work for peace, and so we do not experience peace, because we refuse to trust the Lord to bring correction. We believe we must be right, or fear that instead of correction we will experience rejection. Why does this have such power to make us so fearful? Because we imagine that our safety, security, substance, supply, and Savior all depend upon us being right. In fact, all of the above depend merely on being in Him. He is the Prince of Peace. And we can trust Him to bring peace to and through us, so long as we choose to live as subjects of His just and righteous government, the Kingdom of God. That is the government which is upon His shoulders.

In a world that appears to be disintegrating, the body of Christ can no longer afford its continued fragmentation, splintering over issues that are unclearly defined—conflicts that need to be brought into greater resolution and focus—which prevent us from relational reconciliation. If The Church refuses to practice the presence of her Prince of Peace, we resign ourselves to witnessing the continuing increase of violence in the wake of injustice, oppression, and exploitation. This is not the gift we seek this Christmas.

Not quite accurate, but you get the idea of Who's in charge.

Therefore, as subjects of the Prince of Peace, may God find us not only willing, but active in pursuing the kinds of dialogue that result in conflict resolution and relational reconciliation, within both The Church and the communities we are called to serve.

Merry Christmas!

p.s. It’s not a Christmas carol, per se. But I’m singing it this morning as I proof-read this post:

“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be. With God as our Father, siblings all are we. [Inclusive language isn’t always as poetic as the original, but there it is.] Let me walk with my siblings in perfect harmony. Let peace begin with me; let this be the moment now. With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow: To take each moment, and live each moment, in peace eternally. Let there be peace on earth. And let it begin with me.”