Holy Reputation
I love politics. I remember sitting at our kitchen table in my pajamas talking with my step-dad about budgets and rights and all that I wanted to change about the world. I have always loved politics because for the most part politics are about people and our often failed attempts at living together. But for some reason I have found it hard to find a place for my faith in the world of politics. For some reason, it seems as if I am not supposed to bring my faith into the political realm. Or at least according to the political commentators and talking heads. They make a point of informing me that people of faith are a bit out of the norm. People of faith check their minds at the door. They tell me that people of faith have strong feelings and know what God wants. And because of all this, I find it difficult to claim that I am a person of faith these days. It seems that people of faith, that we have gotten a bad reputation. Have you noticed that?
The television highlights people of faith in scenes of violence and terror. Radicals of all kinds are shown on stages making wild statements about the end of days and what God has in mind for those who happen to be on the right side. People of faith are cast as the unpredictable characters destined to ruin us all. So, I find it difficult to be a person of faith these days.
I guess I am not all that surprised. For years, I have watched as those with money and a microphone have claimed to speak for God. I have watched as people of faith have failed to put our foot down in the place we believe Jesus would stand. I have watched as people of faith have judged and wounded and killed. So it should not be shocking that as we stand on the brink of an election where the stakes feel higher than ever, I find myself struggling for a place as a person of faith, because it seems as if people of faith have gotten a bit confused.
Maybe it is the unbelievable drama of the political season or global warming or the possibility that cell phones are making us nuts, but it appears as if people of faith, have gotten kind of wacky. This is most clear to me when I meet new people. A few weekends ago Jeremy and I took our neighbor’s kayaks out into the bay and found a wonderful party on Sampson’s Island. From the shore, we saw some people we knew and so we pulled up our kayaks and grabbed our beers out from our backpacks. It was a gorgeous afternoon and the sun was that perfect kind of warm- that gentle heat that feels like it could heal any malady. We made our way through the swarm and started to introduce ourselves. “I’m Nicole and this is my husband Jeremy.” The conversation was getting good and I wanted to hurry up and get the inevitable over with- that is that awkward moment when people discover that I am a Christian, a pastor, a person of faith. But when I introduced myself, it was as if I said something like, “I’m Nicole and this is my husband Jeremy, and we are totally irrational and crazy. It is so nice to meet you.” I never seem to have quite enough time to explain. I want to include some kind of accompanying guidebook or a long explanation. I am a Christian, see footnote. The footnote would read, Christian means follower of Jesus, speaking on behalf of the poor and disabled and anyone left out, or left off or left behind. I am a follower of Jesus, striving to love my God and my neighbors and my enemies. I am a follower of Jesus, seeking to turn the swords of my heart into plowshares of peace. My footnote could go on and on and on because people of faith have made it hard for the rest of us. The reputation of people of faith has been tainted and tarnished and tied down with human hands.
But as much as I struggle and grow weary and frustrated, I read Paul’s words today and I am reminded that we are not the first ones. This dilemma between politicos and people of faith wove its way through the First Century too. In Paul’s time, the world in which he lived, held some of the angst, which we share now. It too was a time rife with polarizing talk, racial tension, class divides and a time laden with fear and yet Paul continued speaking and preaching and making a place for himself right smack in the middle of political and religious conflict. Paul seems to be like one of those political religious commentators that is so irritating and yet so convincing that you just have to watch. He is so sure that he has it right that it almost seems like he really believes God told him exactly what to say. And Paul didn’t think twice about making people feel guilty if they didn’t believe just the way that he did. So is it really all that surprising that people of faith often behave the same way today? Paul’s letter to the community in Rome reads something like a lecture, which is not unusual for Paul. But the funny thing about Paul is that he loved to tell the gathered faithful what not to do, does that sound familiar? He loved to tell people what not to do, which gives us a pretty good idea about what they were doing. We know that when Paul says to the community in Corinth, “Let the women keep silent in the churches,” that women were speaking and preaching and prophesying. Praise God! Paul couldn’t stop the newly faithful from doing what they wanted to do, but he wanted to try. He wanted them to follow Jesus, but not just any old way, he wanted them to do it his way. And I imagine that those who prayed and pondered and tried to follow Jesus in Paul’s time found it hard to call themselves people of faith. They probably found themselves at parties in caves and just when the conversation was getting good they feared what would happen if they shared that they were people of the Way, that they were followers of Jesus, that they were people of faith.
But Paul in all his certainty and verbal wandering stopped me in my tracks. It feels something like a commentary in which Bill O’ Reilly or Keith Oberman or Pat Buchanan stopped in the middle of their rant and said “Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall.” These words are so unlike Paul that I almost missed it. Did you hear that? “Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall.” I almost want to take Paul aside and ask him if he meant to say it. It is a dose of humility, a dab of hope that possibly in the end, despite all that he has said, despite all the judgment he has cast and the opinions he has shared, that each soul’s walk, each heart’s hope, each ones’ journey is something special that grows between that one and God.
In this time of profound division and deep divide, these are words of wild possibility because if Paul, the one who found words and time to pass judgment on nearly every kind of person and manner of loving God, can find a way to say this out loud, to extend an invitation to us as people of faith to get our own relationship with God on track, then surely there is hope for us. We are people of faith, we are people who seek abundant life, we are people who join the voices throughout the world longing for a better way. But I believe being people of faith, real faith is being open to the possibility that we don’t always know what is right, that God has more to say, that what we want isn’t always what God wants. This moment, this day, this season in this place is about getting unstuck and starting fresh. There is hope for each and every one of us who dare to yoke our hearts to the God who holds a place for all of us.
It seems that the problem with people of faith, the difficulty with so many who call ourselves Christians is that we are so busy proclaiming it, that we have little time to live it. People of faith have gotten a bad reputation because we have confused our own desires with God’s. The true Gospel is the one without words or judgment or the sharp dagger of claims of what God wants, it is the Gospel that we walk. If we are indeed people of faith, then people will know it by the lives we live. The holiness of our life will speak for itself. May it be so. Amen.