The Heresy of Orthodoxy
“You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.”
“I do not accept glory from human beings, but I know you. I know that you do not have the love of God in your hearts.”
The man on stage finished his sermon at chapel, emphasizing how homosexuality was comparable to carnal animal behavior. The year was 2009, yet even here at my politically and religiously conservative context, this was far from “woke.”
My bible class of high school juniors and sophomores had varying opinions on the matter, both sympathetic and unsympathetic to the LGBTQ community. Yet my teacher continued to press on into the immorality of the orientation.
And yet what stuck out to me most was the response I got when I asked “but isn’t it unloving to compare human beings to animals?”
His response?
“For my ways are not your ways, and my thoughts are not your thoughts, says the LORD.”
I guess that was it. No budging, no ifs, no “that seems a bit extreme.” His interpretation of scripture was synonymous with scripture. His prejudiced bias against a whole group of people was justified by cherry picking certain contentious passages and then refuting any counter with “it’s what God thinks. Wham, Bible verse. Be quiet.”
This posturing has led me to distrust the Bible for many, many years. It’s also led me to distrust the church’s authority over believers. Further, I believe this has led many to think they don’t belong in a church or can even hold the title Christian because some of what’s said onstage or what’s retweeted on social media. These ignorant statements are not representative of who they are or who they want to be known for. Brennan Manning says it like this:
“How I treat a brother or sister from day to day, how I react to the sin-scarred wino on the street, how I respond to interruptions from people I dislike, how I deal with normal people in their normal confusion on a normal day may be a better indication of my reverence for life than the antiabortion sticker on the bumper of my car.”
If our orthodoxy doesn’t make us smell like Jesus, perhaps it is somehow heretical. If my understanding of Scripture isn’t causing me to repent and believe the good news, perhaps I need to re-analyze whether the news is any good. Perhaps the content of my character matters more than my logical and scripturally “sound” doctrine.
A few years later, around 2011, my friend and I went to a Tea Party rally. I’m sure you need context right away. I, in very self-satisfactory fashion, came with a sign that said “who would Jesus bomb?” The responses were… anything one might imagine. The starkest was “all of Palestine for their generations of evil.” My favorite was “when you find out, let me know.” The man’s smile afterward was worth a thousand “he’d bomb fill-in-the-blank-people-I-hate.”
The tea party rally along with many other quasi defiant stances against “the church” has been indicative of much of my faith journey. The route I’ve taken to become close to Christ has been more a meander and less a direct trip. Sometimes the narrow path looked easy and wise, other times it looked like the worst and I intentionally went the other way. Regardless, I think there are far more people who struggle to pursue that narrow path because they carry additional religious weight on their journey. Said another way, I think the narrow path has felt narrower because many times “arguing with God,” as it were, is not encouraged within many Christian circles. At worst, it might give you ground to suddenly become an outsider and/or give a one way ticket to Hell, both here and after death.
Yet fighting God essentially started with Cain and is a consistent story theme throughout the Bible. In fact, God changed His mind via the pleas and protests of His own prophets and followers many, many times. There are some absolute non-negotiable things as far as doctrine goes (I have a blog about that here), however, I’d argue that list is small, and the list being small allows a greater focus on that smaller, more character producing orthodoxy.
So how did we strive toward perfect doctrine over the fruit of the Spirit? How did we go from the Christians in Acts sharing all their wealth to the modern day prosperity gospel and private jets? And why are so many moving toward a deconstruction of their faith rather than a reconstruction?
Because of the idolatry of orthodoxy.
In 2013 I was “slipping,” theologically speaking. All the “godless” university classes and first hand accounts of students and friends who had deterred from church made more sense than it didn’t. Consistently I heard a love for Jesus but a frustration with the church. Consistently I heard a sadness behind the madness, a quiet drip of a faucet behind the overwhelming waterfall of rage against religious corruption.
Yet, speaking for myself, I could be agnostic at best, wandering wise. I’ve always believed, deep down, something divine was watching us. But the chapels on Friday, the college group on Wednesday, and the sermons on Sunday brought confusion more than clarity. I thought God loved me, but my internet search engine showed I was a naughty and that He probably wanted to smite me. I thought I loved God, but fooling around with my girlfriend proved I didn’t. Right?
The class I was encouraged to try was all about the gospel of John. It had always been my favorite of the four. John is obsessed with recording Jesus mentions of the Father, of union with the Father, of the character of the Father. More than the other three, I believe John focuses on the essence of God.
The teacher was a former university professor. Intellectual? You betcha. A smidge know-it-all ish? Probably. Really convinced the gospel was better than he ever thought and taught it was? Empathetically yes.
Finally, there was a Christian speaker where I wanted to record notes rather than forget the whole message. Finally, I could ask any question, any ballsy “are you sure it’s like this” inquiry and I’d get a genuine answer without condescension. Finally, Jesus felt like Jesus again.
Nonetheless, the meandering persisted. As did a toxic relationship a few years in. As did the “godless” university classes. As did half a dozen “worldly” and not Christian influences which were definitely not all good and helpful.
Yet what always confused me was the “all in or all out” perspectives of the Christian “elite.” It was as if the religious gatekeepers, the keepers of precious, unquestionable doctrine, were miffed about folks like me. Miffed about any person who professed Christ but deferred from the norm. Miffed that someone might argue that maybe the gatekeepers have no right to decide who’s in and who’s out.
I’ve read many “heretics.” Rob Bell, obviously. Richard Rohr. Rachel Held Evans (RIP). Brian Mclaren. Madeleine L’engle. Other authors who are maybe now deemed outside of the “national borders” of Christianity as one preacher dismissively stated years ago.
But I’ve always cared more about who pastors/Christian celebrities were as people than whether their beliefs held up exegetically. I always cared more about how a preacher treated people than how he taught them. I wanted what was public to be the same as what was private. I wanted them to wrestle more and be certain less.
The cookie cutter life of an easy faith is remarkably misleading. Sometimes “just have more faith” or “trust” or “hope” is pretty trite. This is a wild statement, so get ready; nobody, save Jesus Himself, believes in the Father, in our ability to be unified with Him, and in His character toward us 100% infallibly. At some level, we all have some agnostic tendencies, bare minimum.
Our wounds distort our view of Him. Our thought patterns cause us to doubt His providence for our circumstances. Our feelings dissuade us from believing fully in His compassionate stance toward us.
So then, I need an orthodoxy that understands this. I need a doctrine that allows me to question doctrine. I need a God who I can fight with that I can also love with. If I can discuss issues of conflict with my loved ones, albeit messily, why in the world would I not be able to do that with God?
The first potential response to this approach is it being a slippery slope. That this reasoning eventually leads to wandering away. That opening up this Pandora’s box leads only to deconstruction of faith.
While there’s an element of truth to the murky waters of open-mindedness, I’d argue the alternative is far worse. It was the most close-minded demographics who rejected Jesus and His kingdom, not the wandering truth seekers or the struggling sinners. Further, questioning being dissuaded is rooted in a place of fear, not love. And John is clear when he says perfect love casts out fear.
So then, how do we step away from the idolatrous altar of being right? How can we focus more on following the two greatest commandments according to Christ, instead of the commandment to have perfect thoughts, according to the “rational” veins of western thought? How can we live by love, not fear?
My primary vocation used to be an attorney on Facebook. What I mean by that is I used to be a professional at inciting contentious debate on social media. It’s apart of why I find social media to be the Devil, and it’s also something I have thankfully repented from fully.
Yet 2010 was a different year and a different Caleb. I wasn’t full blown “wandering,” and I also hadn’t joined a genuine group of authentic, loving Christ followers. High school had ended, of the private Christian variety, and the angst was still front and center for this guy to tell those culturally Christian sheep “what’s what.”
So on I went on Facebook, posting a status about how I had a pleasant, long conversation with a beloved, local homeless man at the establishment called Taco Bell. Right before ordering gut busting “food,” I received a text in that ancient era where folks chose specific text tones meticulously. Or at least I did.
“Changes” by 2Pac came over my cell phone. Don, who I said hi to upon walking in, responded with an enthusiasm equal parts endearing and over the top “I love 2Pac!”
And so we discussed the mythological MC. And it left an impression on me. And I wanted to share something positive rather than the usual complaints I did back then.
So why two hours later did it have 167 comments? What went wrong with what I felt like was so right?
The first comment from a fellow named Chuck simply said, “I’m glad you were able to share the gospel of 2Pac.”
I loaded my machine guns of angst and passion, spiced with immaturity, and unloaded a barrage. This other fellow was equally miffed, equally angsty and passionate, and equally immature.
Fellow soldiers joined the fray. The digital war was on. I was very excited and very frustrated. But then a saint came in and dropped the biggest of truth bombs.
The conversation had devolved to how poor my evangelism had been. Slowly, frustration was supplanting my excitement. Subtle ad hominem attacks persisted, and direct insults were not far behind.
Savannah stopped all of it. Citing a different friend and “soldier” for my cause, Sarah, and myself, this is a paraphrase of her wisdom:
“I don’t know you Chuck but I wanted to say something. I haven’t liked going to Christian school, especially because I got expelled from it. I’ve always gotten dirty looks from Christians when I cuss or when I’m real. I’ve never felt like I could be myself around them. But Sarah and Caleb have been the two people who have been nice to me. They haven’t judged me. When I first got expelled, they were the first ones to tell me sorry that it happened. I don’t know what I think about God anymore, but I know Sarah and Caleb are kind and that’s what matters to me.”
Cue the mic drop gif right here.
It wasn’t that she praised my character or Sarah’s. It wasn’t that she scolded Chuck for getting on my case. It wasn’t that I had a theologically compelling argument or made a fool of those silly atheists.
I was kind. Truth be told, I was mean to many people at the time. I was a different person then. Yet, to the Savannah’s? The struggling? The swearers? The outcasts?
I guess I was kind. And my effort to be more open-minded has led me to attempt to understand those I perceive as close-minded.
My orthodoxy, which definitely has flaws, is now focused more on loving God, others, and myself more, as opposed to always being right.
There’s so much polarization in our world. And now, it’s extended even to the digital frontier too, if not become the primary source of it.
I want to be marked as a person who loves people because I love God. I no longer care about Calvinism, Arminianism, and other things of the vein. I’m not saying Calvinists or Arminianists can’t be people who love people because they love God.
I just know, for myself, I love Jesus better when I focus on the hearts of the men or women I am around, and not their supposed fallacious arguments.