May we be the ones who hold the doors open for others, who hold hands, who hold faces, who hold secrets for one another, who hold space for the pain and the brilliance, who hold the light and the salt, the complexity and the simplicity, the silence and the storm, the ones who hold our opinions loosely and yet love ferociously.
—Sarah Bessey
A number of years ago, I was asked to officiate a wedding for a couple in the bride’s hometown of New Orleans, Louisiana. This just happens to be the hometown of my late father, who grew up in the city until he was eighteen. My dad was a pastor, as was his dad. I never met my grandpa, because he died before I had the chance. However, I have heard hours of stories about him, some that I am sure are myth and folklore. Nevertheless, all the stories taken together reveal that my grandpa and I were very different people. While we are both white, middle class, and Christian, the differences abound. We grew up in very different parts of the country, and we experienced American life in two very different generations. As I traveled from Minneapolis to New Orleans to officiate this wedding, my grandpa was on my mind.
The day of the wedding, I stopped by his grave site, where he is buried next to my grandma. As I stood there looking at his grave stone, a realization hit me: my grandpa would most likely not approve of the events of the weekend. Unable to ask him and know for sure, the details of the next twelve hours ran through my mind, and I wondered about how different his perspective would have been on each aspect of this day. First of all, I am a pastor who happens to be a woman. I’m pretty sure the idea that pastors must be male would have been on my grandpa’s short list of theological certainties. The bride was African American, and the groom was European American. The groom had a Lutheran background, and the bride had a Pentecostal background. While the wedding was distinctly Christian and focused on Jesus, the couple served beer and had a toast with wine (kind of like the first story we hear of Jesus at a party in John 2:1–11).
I brought a lot of assumptions into this, but I had to imagine some of this scene would have met with his disapproval. As I thought through all of these realities, the phrase “turning in his grave” came to mind. I left the cemetery shortly after this realization, as the tension was just too great to consider while standing so near to where he was buried. I drove to the wedding venue (which was not a church—probably another ding from Grandpa against me that day) and thought about the significance of the different approaches two people in the same family can have when it comes to what it means to be a Jesus follower. One thing I know about my grandpa for sure is this: he spent his whole life trying to follow Jesus, just like I’m trying to do.
My story isn’t unusual. Most of you are probably able to think of people in your immediate or extended family who are on a very different page when it comes to some of the conclusions you’ve made about what it means to be a person of faith. Perhaps you are just now asking questions that are leading you away from what your family or community has communicated as values or truths. It’s normal for this to cause some anxiety. I never experienced this tension with my grandpa because I never knew him. However, there are others in my family and community with whom I have significantly different conclusions about what it looks like to follow Jesus, as well as very different interpretations of the same Scriptures. I fear we will take this anxiety as a sign that we are supposed to flee from these relationships or break them off in some sort of significant way.
When we feel this much tension, our fight-or-flight response can kick in. However, we can also choose the stress response of tend or befriend—and the latter is a better option. Boundaries are good and might be necessary for a healthy relationship moving forward, but totally dissociating from those with whom we have major differences of opinion can be detrimental as well. First of all, the cost of significant separation from these communities or relationships almost always means that some positive aspects of the relationship are also discarded. Second, being around people who think differently from us aids our expansion project with our minds and hearts. The echo chamber of agreement to what we already think can be very detrimental to our growth—spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually. I also see the opportunity when we stay in close relationship with those who think differently to continue to grow in their own perspectives. This doesn’t always happen, but if we take ourselves and our own curiosity out of the equation, it’s even more unlikely. When we are in relationship with others, we can encourage them to stay curious as well!
I have no idea what my relationship with my grandpa would be like if he had been around for the last thirty-five years to see one of his granddaughters grow up to follow in his vocational footsteps. From my experience connecting with other pastors who are also women, I know many stories of parents, grandparents, and siblings who began to rethink their perspective once there was a woman called to ministry in their family. When I told my grandma on my mother’s side that I was going to seminary to be a pastor, she told me that women couldn’t do that. I kindly told her I was going to do it anyway. I had studied the Bible and theology in depth to stand up for my position that the Bible affirms women in all roles in the church and society. I called her the next week and she proudly exclaimed, “I told my minister the good news that my granddaughter is also going to be a minister!” When I pointed out that she had had a different opinion just five days earlier, she said, “Well, that was before I knew I had a woman minister of my own!”
Beyond the reasons already mentioned, one of the most important reasons we should try to make unity in diversity a priority is because it’s what Jesus would do. It’s not that Jesus wouldn’t get into heated discussions and courageous conversations with those he disagreed with. We see Jesus do this all the time, especially with the religious leaders. But he hung out with others some thought he shouldn’t spend time with, and he elevated those who had often been on the margins of society. In John 17 Jesus prays for his future followers; I would say that includes those of us trying to follow Jesus today. In his prayer, he prays that we would be “brought to complete unity.” I have to conclude that Jesus didn’t mean complete “sameness,” since God intentionally created us all so different and unique. Jesus created us with a capacity for unity not uniformity.
Most churches and faith groups want to define who they are by what they believe. That seems like a clear way to identify yourself, but Jesus led his followers to be people who worked together in a common mission, not people with a common belief set on all things. The disciples and early Christians certainly had some differences of opinion, but they moved in the same general direction guided by a shared purpose. All churches are theologically and ideologically diverse because no two people are identical in their perspectives. But it’s anxiety producing for faith communities and their leaders to admit this diversity when all that is holding them together is supposed intellectual agreement (more on this in chapter 17).
But like anything else that Jesus hopes for us, there are barriers to experiencing unity. I want to name some of these barriers and some responses that could be helpful as we experience the significantly different perspectives of those around us. One important note before we go on: I want to emphasize again the importance of healthy boundaries. Unity does not require enmeshment, being controlled by others, or sacrificing who you are for the sake of the group. If you find yourself in a relational situation that is unhealthy for you, the boundaries may need to be significant. Additionally, if you find yourself in an abusive situation in a relationship, family, or community, that is a completely different reality, and dissociating and getting help is a must! Final caveat: While I am encouraging you not to completely dissociate from someone who is different from you, there are times when finding a different faith community would be appropriate and finding others who can also be family to you when the differences with your relatives create a lack of support is beneficial.
Jesus is giving a sermon to a group of people, and his mother and brothers show up outside the venue.[1] Someone comes to Jesus and lets him know that his family is outside waiting for him. His response is strange. He asks a question, as usual, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” Then he points to his disciples and says, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” There has been a lot of debate on what exactly Jesus was trying to say in this intriguing moment. My take is that there are some things that are so important to pursue that even your family has to wait and give you the space to do what you need to do. It seems like Jesus was also giving his “framily plan,” expressing that sometimes your friends who you do life and mission with also need to be your family.
However, later in the story, Jesus absolutely shows his dedication to his mother and brothers. He wasn’t disowning them; he was expressing the priorities that he needed to have. In our lives, the expansion we experience in our faith will no doubt impact those around us, especially those closest to us. It could be our parents or extended family, especially if we come from a family that is easily anxious if all members don’t ascribe to faith in the often-narrow path they have come to deem as necessary for all. Others might realize that their spouse or closest friends are most affected by their questions and doubts. This is very common, and it is no doubt difficult for anyone to feel the stretching that happens in these relationships as you are experiencing yourself being stretched. In these scenarios, I think Jesus’s example is helpful: Do everything you can to care for the well-being of your family and friends, but know that some of the spiritual discovery you need to do might make others uncomfortable. If it’s important work to do, then you need to prioritize it. You may need to let others in who can come alongside you as family.
I encourage you yet again—especially with close family, friends, and especially your spouse—to resist the urge to sever ties. Choose healthy boundaries rather than estrangement. Choose courageous conversations rather than contentious arguments. Growth and expansion may cause a strain on your relationship, but they could also bring long-term growth for the other person and for your relationship as well. I have seen this happen many times where the spiritual renewal for one person has a ripple effect on those closest to them. It just may take time and openness on your part as well as trust. Their story never looks the same as yours, because everyone’s journey is different. Here’s a hard reality: even if that person never chooses to grow in their spiritual life, it’s not possible to superficially hold yourself back from your own discovery in some sort of effort not to bypass them in some way. You can try, but it will nearly always end up in a dark place. It’s not a race or a ladder in which you can be ahead or higher than others anyway. That’s not a helpful frame for spirituality. Instead, have courage and keep going one step at a time. I love what Brené Brown says—“courage is contagious.” Not everyone will catch it, but courage is worth it even if it’s merely for you.
A common barrier to finding unity in diversity is the fear of “getting it wrong.” This fear is pervasive in Christianity and religion in general. I see this fear leading people to quickly pick a side rather than choosing to think through the various perspectives on an important issue or topic. The fear of getting it wrong can come from a desire to appear certain and confident and not come across as unsure. It can also lead to deep anxiety. For instance, I have heard many stories from people who suffer from what some call salvation anxiety—the fear that the wrong misstep will land them in hell.
Frankly, a God who threatens people with hell for one small misstep doesn’t sound very much like the God of the Bible we see incarnated in the person of Jesus. In fact, that image of God sounds more like the other gods of the ancient Near East, the overarching culture during the time of the Bible. These gods were all different depending on the narrative, but what they had in common was a tendency to get angry easily, a lack of compassion, and a need to be appeased through certain specific behaviors. At best, these gods might require some sort of prayer or offering, at worst, the killing of children offered as a sacrifice.
Getting it right and picking a side cause us to elevate rightness to something we can and should achieve, and inadvertently communicate that getting it “wrong” is the worst possible outcome. It keeps humility and curiosity at bay and increases pride and arrogance. This need to pick the right side is intertwined with a troubling issue that is easy to see these days: dualistic or binary thinking, which divides concepts into two opposed or contrasted aspects without leaving room for other options. Classic dualistic thinking separates things between right and wrong, or good and evil. Dualistic thinking is easy to fall into, because it creates a shortcut for our brains. We naturally put things into categories, so having just two options to choose from makes it easy on us mentally. By comparing or understanding something in opposition to something else, we avoid the work of understanding it for what it actually is.
This binary thinking is a strong force and leads us to the inevitable conclusion that some Christians are the right kind of Christian and some are the wrong kind. In this view, there are really only two options—no room for the reality of the complexities of the life of faith. These simplistic divisions are all around us: conservative or liberal, traditional or progressive, Republican or Democrat. Dualism demands that we take sides and declare which camp we belong to. But Jesus never declared a camp. The religious leaders constantly tried to trap him, as I mentioned earlier. Was he a zealot who would lead a political uprising against Rome? Was he a new kind of Pharisee trying to hold people to the law? He couldn’t be pegged. Jesus’s story proves that resisting dualism can even get you killed. I know that isn’t the most encouraging realization, but it shows how far Jesus would go to avoid the traps that dualism creates.
Dualism leaves no room for nuance. There are not only “two roads diverged in the yellow wood,” as poet Robert Frost has unintentionally led us to believe. Dualism causes us to begin thinking that we must be either this or that. For instance, many would say that current American political rhetoric suggests that you can’t care about babies in wombs as well as babies on the border of the United States being separated from their undocumented parents. At times, dualism seems to suggest that you have to agree with everything about someone’s lifestyle in order to want them to have equal rights or to offer support. Dualism doesn’t account for all the ways these concepts are interconnected because they are complex. The problem is that there is no space for gray in the black-and-white reality created by binary thinking. Because this way of thinking is so pervasive, it takes intentionality and effort to think with nuance, creativity, humility, and the goal of discovering deeper truth—rather than reaffirming the truth you already subscribe to.
Choosing this deeper way of thinking can be an important way we can show up to the relationships we have with those who think differently than us about our faith, politics, or other aspects of life. This depth of thought and ability to hold tension is the only way to have unity rather than uniformity. It’s the only way we will experience the beauty of diversity and avoid the echo chamber caused by increased homogeneity. I’ve pressed in and stayed in relationships of difference, and I’m convinced it’s worth the work and energy.
Some of the most rigid religious people I know are atheists who used to be fundamentalist Christians. Instead of leaving the rigid fundamentalism of Christianity for a more thoughtful approach to their faith, they are now fundamentalist atheists, rejecting anyone who believes that something other than science rules the universe as crazy and clearly in error. I see them as victims of dualistic thinking yet again.
Psychological certainty, which I have already claimed is a myth, leads to what theologian Greg Boyd calls “the arrogance of assumed rightness.” This is a very slippery slope to hypocrisy and entitlement. People tend to believe they are right beyond any doubt, but that others need to be more willing to question their belief set. The willingness to embrace tension and nuance and to reject dualistic thinking is an opportunity to pursue intellectual and spiritual humility. The seemingly desperate need some people have to declare that they are right and others are wrong almost always stems from fear and insecurity. I’ve also observed that people don’t like it when you tell them that you think they might be afraid and insecure. I know I don’t want to be someone who succumbs to the arrogance of rightness, yet I, too, am guilty of the drive to prove I am right and others are wrong.
Humility is a beautiful quality, but spiritual elitism is not a good look on anyone. I have heard it come out of my own mouth, and it tastes bitter. At my worst moments, I’ve said and done things with the intention of making someone else feel dumb or ignorant. Even if people don’t have all the information, making them feel less than is not the effect I want to have on others. It furthers the right-versus-wrong Christian mentality that boxes us into the binary yet again. Those who stay curious ask questions like, “could you tell me how you came to your conclusion?” rather than offer statements like, “if you just think through what you are saying, you will see that your belief is just not reasonable.” If we ourselves have a fear of uncertainty or an unwillingness to pursue what might seem gray, we are part of the problem. If we think we are so enlightened that others are far beneath our spiritual vantage point and are not worth our time, we are fueling arrogance.
Humility is being open to the idea that anyone can teach us something valuable. It is accepting the fact that we aren’t able to have a complete perspective because there are always multiple perspectives, often many that are valid. A humble person is reflective, taking into account the breadth and depth of the Christian tradition and how long people have been interpreting Scripture and theology, and coming to a vast array of conclusions. Humility and courage look like the choice to stay present to other people and to stay open to their experience of the world. It’s choosing to stay curious about them and what God is up to in the world through the diverse display of beings we call the human race.
It takes intentionality, but experimenting in this area can provide significant growth in those who give it a try. The following are some experiments to move from dualistic thinking to holding the tension in relationships with those different from you.
For this experiment, you will need to get a snack that is both salty and sweet (for example salted caramels, Chicago Mix popcorn, or salty and sweet Chex Mix). While eating the snack, follow this guide:
This experiment helps us grow in dialectical thinking, which is an ability that shows cognitive strength. It is the ability to synthesize what seems like two opposing alternatives. When we grow in this ability, we are able to move past a more basic and often lazy cognitive function of dualistic thinking.
Food is often called the great equalizer because it is something that everyone needs. This experiment gives the experience of learning from others around a table where everyone is taking the same action of offering nourishment to their bodies through the food.
Consider an area in your life where it would be very clear that someone is in another category than you. For instance, someone in a different political party, someone with a different religious background, or someone who grew up primarily in a different country. Ask them if you can interview them about their perspective because you are doing an experiment in seeking to understand people who are different from you.
You may come up with your own list of questions based on the specific person you are interviewing. Here are some questions to get you started:
Do your best just to listen and to ask questions. Unless the person asks you a question, continue to respond with additional questions. Ask any follow-up questions that seem appropriate to your prepared questions. Two great follow-up questions are: Could you tell me more about that? Could you help me understand this better?