Christians and Homosexuality—Part II

Historically, Christians have lost in the public arena. That is how it all began, in fact, with the greatest loss, the death of Jesus of Nazareth. His policies were not forced or voted upon to be implemented. He did not rally like-minded people for His cause. He gave up, lost, humbled himself. He loved while still proclaiming his message.

What would it cost a Christian to love without pretense? We hear of our offenses against those whom we invited to this or that social function if only to “witness” to them. Our message is so great we belie its patience and humility through our forced “boiling down” of the message and trickery. What if we gave up this battle against homosexual unions? What would it really cost us?

We tire of “the left” preaching tolerance when it seems to have tolerance only with its like-minded constituents, which is agreement, not tolerance. Yet we pretend to accept everyone with our gospel message while declaring war on them. Are we afraid that we don’t possess enough love? That God can’t love people despite their sin? Are we so sin-free that complete repentance is demanded of everyone else before we will give them an opportunity?

I want to take things a step further. What do we lose even if homosexuality is merely a preference? What battle are we really fighting? When did the gospel—allegedly our greatest responsibility—take a backseat to the issue of American citizens’ rights to homosexual civil unions? I ask because I don’t see the stand against intoxication, which is already legal. I don’t see the stand against obesity, which is already legal.

The point is not to give up and allow anything and everything. The point is to pick our battles against the right things. We are battling sin; not homosexuals. How much greater would our message of hope and love be if we conceded all the ground we feel entitled to in order to present a humble, weakened, compassionate, understanding Gospel? What impact has the gospel had in our lives that we attribute to Jesus campaigning and dividing the country on political issues? None—we proclaim his humility, his love, his willingness to die with the sinners and become one himself.

Can we still point sinful people toward the gospel? I certainly hope so. The world is sick and Jesus is its healer. Sinful people need to be pointed toward Jesus. We don’t need any more people being pointed toward homosexuals and pretending they are the enemy. We don’t need any more bad logic that says allowing homosexual unions means not preaching truthfully about sin. Do we really need to identify everyone’s individual sins before we can feel good about preaching the gospel? We are all born into sin, into a broken system. Suppose you do “fix” that gay girl or guy, what about their pride? What about their lust? What about their anger? What about their idolatry? What about their greed? Do you also need to beat them over the head about those things? Or can you stand firm in the truth of the Gospel that all are under the power of sin and all need freedom from it?

Picture this: you support homosexual unions and can tell a gay couple that you fought for their civil rights because you believe in their humanity and dignity as such; not as trickery or a “foot in the door,” but as a true display of humble love. You then let them know that you have tried to love as Jesus did, by humbling yourself even where you weren’t sure or disagreed; not to add another church-goer but because such a message of love ought to be proclaimed. You refused to dehumanize them because you love them. That is tolerance. You might have been sure that homosexual activity was sinful, but how sure were you that you needed to oppose it like you did? How sure were you that it was “the” issue it has become? How sure were you that you spent as much time sharing the gospel or sending money to impoverished people?

How much time did Jesus spend condemning people and fighting against their public rights?

How much time did Jesus spend welcoming outcasts, feeding the hungry, proclaiming hope despite sinfulness?

Thermopylae and The Doubting Thomases

The Public Library is a great place to grab a few good DVDs. On my family’s most recent visit to the Rockwall Library, I found a History Channel special called Last Stand of the 300, which details the events surrounding the Spartan stand at Thermopylae during the second Persian invasion of Greece in 480 BCE.

A particular fact about these events struck me. The Greek city-states (not a unified, singular “Greece” yet) stayed away from each other for the most part. Each city-state looked after its own interests, including religious differences, and did not typically become embroiled in the affairs of others. The second Persian invasion changed that, at least for this battle. Several city-states banded together to prevent overall domination by the Persians—a force with tremendous momentum and evil intent.

Before I even finished the documentary, I texted Zach to point out the analogy between the Greek city-states and us—The Doubting Thomases. Zach and I agree on very, very little. Our presuppositions—despite a somewhat-shared realism—could not be further apart: he’s an atheist and I’m a theist. Such a difference has massive implications socially, politically, hermeneutically, and so on. The fact that we have this difference and continue to be friends is not shocking or even surprising because we’re both fairly nice people and easy to get along with. We send Christmas cards to each other. We sometimes get books for each other when we see books the other would like (Including an awesome set Zach got for me last year, which had autographs from three of my heroes: Robert M. Price, Bart Ehrman, and Daniel Wallace!) We’ve sent gifts to each other’s baby boy and occasionally even seek wisdom from one another about difficult personal matters. In short: we’re friends. Good friends (don’t correct me on that, Zach, or I’ll cry.)

What makes this partnership so fascinating is that, like the Greek city-states, we don’t share universal interests. We have our own agendas and our own views to refine and develop. We even have “battles” between us that have been known to stretch out into 65 comments on my Facebook wall. He has frustrated me a few times and I’m certain I’ve returned the favor more times than that.

What unites us is a shared sense of responsibility to use the gifts and resources we’ve been (yeah, I’ll say it) blessed with to make a difference and push back against “evil”. We both hate social injustice. We both want the world to be better for our sons. We are both disgusted by hatred, intolerance, neglect, and abuse caused by those using religion as a justification for their subconscious or conscious lust for power.

Zach has known some good Christian and otherwise religious people. I have known some good atheists and otherwise non-Christian or non-religious people. There are truths we can all agree on and there are evils we can all take up arms to battle against. We don’t have to erase what makes us unique; but we need to set aside what prevents us from growing stronger so that we can truly push back the darkness that threatens to destroy us all.