A few weeks ago when everyone was obsessed with Cordoba House (aka - the ground zero mosque) I wrote a post explaining why I thought it wasn’t American to protest its construction. Well, I also happen to be a Christian and, despite what some protesters would say, I don’t think it is very Christian either. Protesting the Cordoba House is not Christian because Christ’s kingdom is not of this world. Some Christians, like Peter, would cut Islam’s ear off only to watch it grow back anyway. It may seem Christian to fight for Christ, but as Peter learned, it isn’t. I am a Christian. I do not like Islam. I think it is a false religion. But as Christians we cannot afford to let our opposition to any particular system become an excuse for imposing our will on individuals. The New Testament is crystal clear about promoting the worship of Christ by means of winsome love and not by coercive force.It seems that one of the many paradoxes of Christianity is that as the church gains political power in the world it loses its spiritual power. This is what Augustine argued in the City of God. Our citizenship is in heaven, not in the earthly city. We are aliens and strangers here. Things just seem to get really confusing when we operate out of a position of power rather than a position of service. I think that’s why Jesus told us to leave the wheat and the tares in the ground until the harvest. Pulling up the tares becomes a really tricky proposition. To do it well requires a degree of discernment about societies and individuals that we don’t even possess with regard to ourselves. It seems that once one undertakes the gnarly business of decreeing how the world should be cleaned up rather than just cleaning up one’s little corner there is no telling what one might be forced to do. Like the dictators in my last post our hubris often leads to moral bankruptcy. In pulling up the tares we must define ourselves as the wheat, pure and wholesome. That may be true in some future heavenly sense, but right now that requires us to ignore Solzhenitsyn’s realization that “the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts.” Or if you prefer something more biblical, “Jews and Gentiles alike are all under sin.” (Rom 3:9)
I think born-again Christians are especially susceptible to the hubris of believing they can see with God’s eyes because they can see better than they did before. They have experienced an internal shift from darkness to light, from blindness to sight. Because of this, it is sometimes hard to temper a new Christian’s overweening zeal for reform in order to keep him from annoying everyone around him. Luckily, the one doctrine that is up to the task is central to the faith. Original sin’s stain may be gone, but its habits are a tenacious reminder that our hearts still straddle both heaven and hell. That’s why a bishop/overseer/pastor “must not be a recent convert, or he may become conceited and fall under the same judgement as the devil.” (1 Tim 3:6)
Governments are successful when they take this into account. In the U.S. our Constitution takes people as they are (greedy, selfish, and near-sighted) and builds a political system that suits them, rather than imagining how people could be and building a system that might just be able to make them better. So we as Christians must know ourselves as well as our founding fathers did. You will stumble if you begin exerting power over your neighbors by treating the “good” and “bad” ones differently. Instead “love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.” (Luke 6:35) Another of the paradoxes of Christianity is that we can only fight for our faith by surrendering to our enemies. So put down your signs and take up your cross.
Cartoon found here.
