Many years ago when I was a young pastor at an evangelical church, one of the cranky old men in the congregation told me that I was not a Christian. He has since died, but, were he still alive, I suppose he would be willing to tell you if you are a Christian as well.
I was a Youth Pastor at the time. I read my Bible every day. I prayed every day. I had a fish on my car. I was about as Christian as you could get, even in the evangelical church. This man, however, decided that since I had not encouraged enough young people to attend the staple Plymouth Brethren service that took place before the “Family Worship Hour” (oh my), then I could not really be a Christian.
There was nothing in me, then or looking back now, that responded with any crisis of faith or reflection upon whether the man may have been right. My response, then and now, was to note to myself that this man, in full cranky mode, was in no way the person to make a determination about my faith or lack thereof. It was evident to me that whatever it was in him that was causing a welling up of judgment and fear, it had next to nothing to do with me. He was, in our congregation, famously cranky. He stood up at church meetings and castigated the church leadership. He told anyone who would listen, and many who wouldn’t, what was wrong with the church, the world, young people, and “believers and non-believers” alike.
Years later, when I was Senior Pastor, I saw a lot more of the havoc that had been wreaked in his family. The fear and judgment that he spewed at people like me was nothing compared to the fear and judgment that had become the chief currency of his relationship with his adult children. The truth is, even though he caused a lot of damage that I don’t excuse or deny, I came to quite like him. I was able, near the end of his life, to speak to him about the fear. I never really found out where it came from, but it was obvious that he was taught some tyrannical view of God. I would not question his faith, but I was willing then, and I am willing now, to say that God is not a tyrant.
It is possible for Christians to believe things that are entirely un-Christlike. This does not mean that the person who believes such things is not a Christian. That is not for me, or for you, to decide. Christian faith is about something that is received and acknowledged, not something that is accomplished.
You may have heard of some of the recent laws and decisions that a group of politicians were trying to pass in Texas. One of them was a proposed law that would require every school classroom in the state to post the Ten Commandments on the wall. There was also a bill that proposed the building of a sculpture, on the state capital grounds, of “a pregnant woman with a see-through belly with a fetus inside.” Neither of these measures passed, largely because the clock ran out on the legislative session. One measure that did pass, however, was a bill that approved replacing certified school counselors with uncertified chaplains and pastors.
In the debate about the 10 Commandment proposal, there was an exchange that has received a good deal of press coverage. Representative James Talarico spoke against the measure and did so, in his words, motivated by his Christian faith. Talarico’s grandfather was a Baptist minister. Talarico, in interviews, has noted that his public service, his work, and his time in seminary have all been driven by his Christian faith. He does not see Christian nationalism and the desire for a kind of theocracy in faith and education as Christian. He is willing to speak against such views, but he makes, at least in the exchange that I heard, a distinction between a view and the person holding it. He does not say “You are not a Christian,” or “You are only a Christian if you agree with me.” Here are his words in speaking against the measure, in addressing a politician who was supporting it; “Representative Noble, you are devout, and so am I. This bill to me is not only unconstitutional, not only un-American, I think it is also deeply un-Christian.”
I have repeatedly stated, in this newsletter and elsewhere, that Christian Nationalism is not Christian. As I make such a strong statement, I actually have in mind a prayer as well as a point. I do not wish to question anyone’s faith. There are scores of Christian people who have come to hold Christian Nationalist views. The phenomenon is arguably endemic in the evangelical church in the United States, but it is not unheard of in Canada. Such movements are not novel. They use the symbols and language often associated with Christian faith in service of political and cultural power. A statue of a see-through belly with a fetus inside outside of a state capital is about as idolatrous as things can get.
I look back to the exchange on the church steps decades ago in which that man told me that I was not a Christian. I am willing to say that he was an angry, fearful old a$$ho!e, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a Christian. Who am I to decide that?
Part of faith is the desire to always be moving towards believing better. It is not unChristian to examine our beliefs and honestly reflect upon how far some of them are from the fullness of love and self-giving that Jesus lived and embodied. I am a Christian (whatever that means, labels are problematic), but being a Christian does not mean that my politics, my worldview, and the ways in which I see people are automatically sanctified.
Hopefully more people will hear the voices that remind us that Christian faith is not owned by a political party or perspective.
Oh no! Public service / pubic service. Quite the typo😅. Thanks for the note.
I don’t know if I am a Christian. I have an MDiv and a DMin, been a pastor for many years, and taught at Regent and Carey in pastoral theology, and I have done all the devotional practices that you have mentioned. And I think I am a Christian, call myself a Jesus follower, and I wait to see Jesus face to face to find out if I am a Christ-one. Won’t know for sure until he says. I hope he welcomes me. If I can, I’ll let you know.