Have you ever noticed how many churches pride themselves on "not being like other churches"? Those other churches that judge people who don't look/act like them. But there's this air of judgement in their non-judgement. I went to a church a few years ago that actually pulled someone on the stage to prove how accepting they were. He had a ratty ponytail and a leather motorcycle jacket, with hole-y jeans. The pastor put his arm around him and proceeded to talk about how different this man looked- how other churches might look at him and immediately judge him since he does not look like a stand-up Christian. But not this church. No, there was no judgement here. They accepted this grizzly Biker, just as he was.
Does anyone else catch the irony in these situations? The churches that talk about how they love people, they don't judge people, they accept people- while at the same time calling those very people out as being a different caliber than they are?
Call me crazy, but the church is the church, and people are people. Being "different than those other churches" is not a badge of honor. The church is the bride of Christ- singular. If you're different than all the other churches, something is wrong. As for people, I have no advice on how to get past the Christian stereotypes. It's been drilled into our heads since birth that good Christians look/act/talk a certain way. We almost can't help but add up all the points in our head to see where people are on the spiritual spectrum. But at the end of the day, we all just want to be loved and accepted, where we're at, as we are- and encouraged to reach our potential to be our best.
Food for thought- It's ok to notice that people are different than us, or that churches operate differently than our own. We don't have to pretend to be blind to differences- observation is different than judgment. But if we spend our lives comparing ourselves to others, we ourselves may never actually live.
I was reading John 8 tonight, about the woman caught in adultery, and I was inspired to look at the story from the perspective of a Pharisee. The below story is fictional, based on the truth of chapter 8 in the book of John. You can read the original story here.
I was raised in the Jewish faith. I came from a family held in high esteem by the religious community. Since childhood, I had strived to keep all of the commandments and to serve God with all that I was. I was a Pharisee. My religious teachings and trainings in the law positioned me as close to Yahweh as humanly possible. I was righteous, and I did whatever I could to instill righteousness in my community. Our God was holy, and there was no room for debauchery or fornication in our holy home.
The other Pharisees and I had been doing a fine job of leading our community in proper doctrine and behavior, until this Jesus of Nazareth showed up. This lowly carpenter who claimed to be one with our holy God- this blasphemer! He was walking through all of the holy lands slandering our good Lord's name and leading people astray with His doctrine of love. He had to be stopped, but He seemed unstoppable.
I met with the other religious leaders and we hashed out the details of how to expose Jesus as the sinful, lowly liar he was. It was brilliant. We'd use the town whore. No one had ever called her out before, but everyone knew the type of woman she was. A woman unfaithful to her husband. This woman was trash, as any true disciple of God would clearly know. We'd see what this Jesus of Nazareth had to say about this worthless harlot.
It was a warm, summer dawn. We knew exactly where this woman would be and who she would be with. As we watched and waited outside of her door, we prayed that God would bless us in our act of obedience to Him. God- bring justice today. Bring your justice.
Two of the men in our group stormed through the door and dragged the whore out as she was in the act of having relations with her lover. I'll never forget her piercing scream as they pulled on her hair, or her tear streaked face as she blushed, desperately trying to cover herself and her indecency. It was the face of a woman in complete desperation and shame. She would be brought to justice.
We approached the city where Jesus was preaching, and threw the woman at his feet. "Teacher," one said as he yanked her up by her hair, fully exposing her to the crowd. "This woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses commands us to stone such a woman. What do you say we should do?" Brilliant. We had him. If he said to stone her, he clearly did not live by this gospel of love he so brazenly proclaimed. If he said to not stone her, he was going against the very law of Moses that he supposedly created. We had him in a corner, and we could not have been more excited or proud. God was smiling upon us that day.
The crowd grew silent in suspense. Some looked away, blushing at the sight of the undressed woman. Others stared in judgement and condemnation, some stared with lust, and others had a look that seemed to suggest their own personal shame and guilt- as if this was not the first time they were seeing this naked body. We all waited eagerly to hear Jesus's response. The woman's tears had since subsided and she sunk her head in anticipation of death; her long hair serving as a blanket to cover herself.
The silence lasted to the point of being uncomfortable. Then I noticed the Rabbi was squatted down, fiddling around in the dirt. What was he doing? Drawing?
"Teacher," one said in a tone of frustration, "everyone is waiting for you to respond. Did you hear what we told you? Do you know what this woman is? You tell us, how should we deal with her?"
Jesus stood up and brushed his hands off against his robe. Yes, he knew what the law of Moses said. He knew what this woman was- he seemed even to know who she was. "Whichever one of you is without sin, you cast the first stone at her" he responded. There was something about the look in his eyes that was mesmerizing. He had such compassion in his eyes, yet also such sadness. We exchanged glances across our circle, and saw that once again Jesus was squatted down in the dirt, writing.
The older Pharisees were standing closest to Jesus, and once they saw what Jesus was writing, they hastily walked away. They had a look of discomfort and vulnerability. I and the rest of the men moved closer to examine the dirt. Though I desperately wanted to carry out this act of God, to bring justice to this situation and to condemn this woman to death and hell as she so clearly deserved, I couldn't get myself to pick up a rock. I was paralyzed. Who was this Jesus? Why was he writing this? God, who is this man they call Christ? Why can't we stop him? Why do we feel the way we do when we are in his presence?
More men began walking away, staring at their feet as they walked. I turned to leave, and as I was walking home, a sea of emotions raging inside of me, I paused to hear what Jesus was now saying. He was standing now, and he put his hands on the woman's chin, drawing her eyes up to meet his. I heard him say with such gentleness and sincerity, "Dear woman, where have your accusers gone? Has no one condemned you?"
Through her weak sobs she struggled to hold eye contact with him. She stuttered as she ever so faintly responded, "N-no, no one sir."
They stood for another brief moment, staring at each other intently. Then Jesus wiped her tears with his hands, and said "Then neither do I condemn you. Go in peace, and sin no more."
Who was this Jesus? And why did I always feel the way I did when I was in his presence? I was not convinced that this Jesus was God, but he was definitely no ordinary man.
Food for thought- It's ok to notice that people are different than us, or that churches operate differently than our own. We don't have to pretend to be blind to differences- observation is different than judgment. But if we spend our lives comparing ourselves to others, we ourselves may never actually live.