Can We Talk?

Last week I sent out an email to several hundred of our supporters.  In it I reminded those of us who follow Jesus that the one conviction that separates us from all other faith traditions is our belief that Jesus was God in the flesh.  This was easy to write and I expect that it was easy for our supporters to read.  As folks read along they were probably nodding their heads in ready assent – “Preach it brother Marlin, preach it!”

But then I added this: “We don’t have to convince everyone else of this, and we can’t, but we can remind one another that this one single truth is the most important gift that we have been given by God.  This one truth is ‘the blessing,’ I think.  This does not make Christianity the ‘one true faith’ – there may be no such thing – but it does define us and we ought hold on to it as if it were our primary gripping point with God.  Let loose of this; let loose of God.  It is that important, I think.”

Sally proofed the piece and said, “That thing about the ‘one true faith,' I think you should probably take that out.”

“Yeah,” I responded, “I probably should, but I don’t want to.”

She pursed her lips, shook her head, looked over at me with that look – you know, the one that asks, “Why do you do this?” – and said, “Figured that.  Can we talk?”

That's the question, isn't it?  Can we talk?

We did, Sally and I, we talked.  We agreed to let it stand.  Sally was reluctant, but also convicted of the importance of getting beyond the need to weigh every word.  “Let’s see what happens,” she said.

And here’s what happened.  We received several emails about this.  Some were pleased to have someone at last who was willing to acknowledge a struggle over the matter of one faith fits all.  One person was dismissive – “heretic” was his discussion ending choice of words.  But most wanted to talk further:  “What did you mean by that?”

Can we talk?  That’s what I’m asking.  Can we talk?  Can we doubt?  Can we wonder?  Can we question?  Can we seek after God’s heart?

Here in this place of conflict, few are talking to one another.  Most have drawn their lines in the sand and are standing squarely behind them lobbing bombs and missiles and accusations at the other.  They do it in the name of God.  They don’t talk.  They don’t listen.  They just fight.  And it is killing us all.

Sad to say, but this place is not the exception; it is the rule.  In the name of God, we fight over matters that God seems to care less about than the matter that God seems to care most about: “Care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger within your gates.”  Read the Hebrew Scriptures, the Christian New Testament, or the Qur’an and you will hear the call to seek justice for the poor as the one common thread weaving all into one.  No, I’m not saying the three are one, but I am saying there is a common thread, and that the common thread is God’s absolute passion for the tiniest and weakest in our midst.

My story is the story of Jesus, conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, dead and buried – and on the third day, was raised.  That’s my story.

That’s not the Jewish story.  That is not the Muslim story.  They have their own story.  Can we talk?  Can we listen?

Here’s my story.  What’s your story?  Can we talk?

If we can’t talk, can’t listen, then what’s left for us to do?  Well, look around you and you have your answer.  We polarize.  We label.  And we kill – kill the conversation, kill the spirit, kill the body, kill the widow, the orphan, and the powerless stranger.  And we think this pleases God?  Pleases Jesus?  I think not!

So, can we talk?