You made us look foolish, Eugene. You made the lives of hope that we lead look foolish. God grant me the courage to not let my cynicism win. God grant me the courage to look foolish, again and again, because I haven’t stopped hoping.
When did loving our neighbor as ourselves become a matter of convenience or preference?
Why would anyone ask questions and express doubts—in a church—if a Christian is likely to tell them they are wrong for questioning or doubting? Who wants that? No sane person. And certainly not Jesus, either.
Churches try to upsell Jesus to the mentally ill. They say that Jesus will solve all of your problems. It is only through Christ that you will find joy. How can you be a Christian and be so depressed? Don’t you know that God will lift your burdens if you give them to Him? It’s sad-shaming. And it only perpetuates the problem.
This tells me you haven’t engaged with my story. This tells me you aren’t really interested in hearing what Jesus is doing my life and are more interested in pointing out the sin in my life and trying to save me from myself.
We need to hold Christians accountable, and we need to lay waste to the idea that the only good Christian is a gentle one.
The church has largely become a self-righteous, spiritually arrogant, sin-focused, Bible-weaponizing, people-condemning kind of monster that has lost much of her credibility among thinking, human-loving people.
I understand a government’s first priority is to protect its own people. What I don’t understand is how Christian leaders are able to make arguments about the sanctity of life and somehow use that to promote anti-refugee policies.
Jesus is not the God of those who close doors in the faces of people He made. He is the God of open doors, of broken-down ones.
After we left, the tension we had felt erupted, and the city burned. And from suburbia, we judged harshly. Confidently. Knowing that if only they had been like us, if only they too, had refused their free lunches, the people of our city could have been like us.
Welcome to 2017 America, where the melting pot on which it was founded burns blood black and boils over with vitriol...
Every day I become more and more aware of the little ways that I excuse my own prejudicial thoughts and behaviors—while protecting my privilege. And I’m haunted by the times that I didn’t speak up.
And maybe that is how you fight hellfire. Not with more hellfire, but with embodied solidarity. With protests. With makeshift signage. With fierce compassion and bravery in the face of the depths of human ignorance and depravity.