Socrates Address. Louis Joseph LeBrun, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
I am a fan of healthy debate. It’s part of the human condition. We’ve argued for millenia. Often, it results in acrimony. Sometimes, war. On occasion – and this is what I love – it can produce a respectful sharing of ideas. Point, counterpoint. We approach each other with respect and shake hands prior to engaging and at the conclusion. It’s gentlemanly and ladylike.
On a deeper level, respectful engagement is Socratic inquiry; we ask questions the other person might not have considered and we grow to a deeper understanding. It’s borne of the fact that while human minds are constrained we can grow through acculturation. We still might not agree and probably won’t. But we are invited to at least make an attempt to understand the other. After all, we were all created in the image of God.
“I am convinced that I can learn from others, including believers whose theology differs from mine. I can also learn from people who adhere to other concepts of redemption. I can even learn from those who hold no belief in God.”
Yes, God. Personified in three persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Each is in the other but each is not the other. The Father is neither the Son nor the Holy Spirit (and so on) but the Holy Spirit and the Father and the Son are all God. It is a profound mystery and intensely powerful. It’s diverse but united. It’s this oneness of Spirit which I see when I consider the human experience. Consider that each of us in the vast collection of human souls comes with a unique DNA, yet we are created in the image of God. We are the same, but we are not. This conundrum is part of God’s plan. Add to this the fact that the human condition is fallen; we are sinful beings by nature because God allows evil to exist. The purpose, among other things, is to provide a choice. We are not automatons. We were created, we are fallen, we are invited to seek redemption. Our fallenness is complete and puts us on a path towards eternal separation from God because His Kingdom is pure and we cannot enter on our own. We need a Saviour, one who washes us clean. The classical view of reconciliation (which I believe is entirely supported by scripture, experience and reasoning) is that we are saved or lifted up when we accept the audacious truth that the Creator actually came to live among us in human form, yet in a sinless state, and then died for our sins. All we have to do is believe it and declare it. This is how we connect to the Divine.
Once we are justified in this manner we embark on a path of sanctification: we never stop growing. On that journey, we are invited to submit our spirits to Christ for gradual enlightenment. God speaks to us in various ways: scripture, creation and The Holy Spirit working supernaturally or through other souls. I am a work in progress. Although I am redeemed, I remain a sinner. I also have much to learn.
It’s in this light that we are invited to engage in respectful dialogue. I am convinced that I can learn from others, including believers whose theology differs from mine. I can also learn from people who adhere to other concepts of redemption. I can even learn from those who hold no belief in God.
In a bygone era, speaker’s corners and pubs were typical venues for discussion. Nowadays, it’s primarily social media, which is hardly an ideal setting. It’s typically two-dimensional and doesn’t normally allow for sharing in real time. It does not lend itself to lengthy propositions to be presented, carefully considered and discussed. Brevity is prized. In the absence of depth, we get sound bites. With our human propensity for conflict, discussion can quickly devolve into superficial caricatures and oversimplifications. Those on different ends of the theological and political spectra are often labeled with pejoratives.
And yet we continue to engage. Ideas and positions are regularly and freely shared. On Facebook, for example, one can find groups (open and public or closed and private) which cater to particular mindsets and interests. Like minds stick together as we gravitate to the company of kindred souls. When we do engage with those of different views, we clash. Often violently, sometimes in a cartoonish way. Search out any local “Rant & Rave” Facebook group for particularly tawdry examples.
Despite all of the risks and likelihood of failure, I remain among those still willing to engage on social media with others who hold clearly different theological outlooks. In fact, I am drawn to it in the audacious belief that believers have the capacity – with God as their help – to be respectful of conflicting opinions. Some might call it naive. But I persevere in engagement. Part of my motivation in my engagement is to demonstrate that the labels that have been placed on the “other” are often based on false assumptions or oversimplifications. My method is to refrain from the temptation to jump to conclusions, to respectfully ask for their arguments to be unpacked and logically presented, to listen and then politely respond. Point, counterpoint. We shake hands and go home. My dream, and I fully admit that it is probably unrealistic, is to be able to gently pour buckets of loving water when alternative views clash and erupt in flames. I approach this in the same way we are invited to continue to pray into specific challenges and seek specific outcomes; when our prayers are not answered, we are invited to continue for years or even decades. Don’t stop.
“I remain among those still willing to engage on social media with others who hold clearly different theological outlooks. In fact, I am drawn to it in the audacious belief that believers have the capacity – with God as their help – to be respectful of conflicting opinions.”
And so I persevere on the social media front. Here we find no shortage of opportunity to engage with the other. Discussion in the immediate wake of the 2024 U.S. Presidential election was vibrant. It was an election for the ages and presented two very different alternatives. Like many, I took it all in. I am a consumer of discussion who happens to be a minister and former journalist. I naturally seek opinions which merge politics with theology.
A few weeks ago I saw a post from someone I know in the PCC which was getting good engagement, so I jumped into the fray. I am not going to identify the author or the others with whom I engaged because I do not want to fan the flames. I’m not even going to describe the nature of the post other than to say it was written by someone whose progressive theology is significantly left of centre.
My purpose in this essay is to dissect the conversations and examine the underlying tensions. In this, I freely admit to judgment, although I prefer to call it discernment. The intent is not to convict – that’s the role of The Holy Spirit – rather, it’s to better understand the human condition. And on a purely personal level, it’s to vent, to debrief. It’s good therapy.
My first response was met with a single emoji – a Horror Face – and prompted 30 replies, all negatively critical. The author’s reply was greeted with seven positive emojis, either “thumbs up” or “Love.” I received other responses. Some included forceful words and I had the feeling that I was being shut down. Nevertheless, I decided to make an attempt to engage in respectful dialogue, bucket of lukewarm water in hand as I spoke the truth in love. I took a deep breath and responded. Words were being put in my mouth and assumptions made. But I persevered with another carefully crafted response. And then it got personal: I was accused of making harmful judgments even though I was only trying to present a case.
“Sadly, we give in to the temptation to read between the lines and we tend to believe what we want to believe, what fits with our narrative.”
Another person dismissed my posts without providing any rebuttal and called them “gross.” Taken aback, I reminded my friend (yes, we officially share that status) that the purpose of the conversation is to invite respectful sharing of opinion and rather than dismiss and chastise, would he be willing to provide details.
He responded without specifics then referred to the “violence” of my posts.
“Sorry, what violence?”
No response.
Shortly after, the author of the original post stepped in to shut down the conversation, pointing out that the purpose of the original post was actually not to debate but simply to come on side with her rallying cry. I had misinterpreted, so I apologized. For the first time, I actually received something positive – a Care emoji. It would turn out to be the only positive response I would receive in this engagement. I hoped my apology would signal a truce of sorts. Mea Culpa. Then someone else wondered “when you stopped being a nice person and become a jerk.” I wondered if she missed the apology or chose to ignore it. I didn’t respond. Then someone else issued another retort which ended with the words: “Have a seat.” More like “Sit. Down.” And then, which was not directed specifically at me but in general: “. . . the mansplaining is overwhelming and very telling!!”
Mansplaining – noun (informal, derogatory): “The act of condescendingly explaining something, particularly by a man to a woman, in order to appear knowledgeable, or from a mistaken presumption that she has an inferior understanding of the topic.” – Wiktionary.
It was the exact opposite of what I was attempting to do. Sadly, we give in to the temptation to read between the lines and we tend to believe what we want to believe, what fits with our narrative.
By now, I’d had enough. Something about these Facebook responses really hit me like nothing before. I was shaken. I tried to do a self-assessment and process it all. What was going on in my head and heart? I know there are times when I am surprised by something or mildly taken aback – it could be good or bad. Other times, something makes me stop and take it in. This was deeper, on a spiritual level. For a day or so I was actually walking around in a bit of a daze. I kept going over the exchanges in my mind. At a meeting of my presbytery the next day I felt a powerful need to gravitate to kindred souls; typically, these are folks who also adhere to Biblical orthodoxy, although some others who fall outside my theological views also feel like kin. I felt alone, I needed company.
Some of you might be thinking: “What else were you expecting?” “Why did you engage when the post was loaded?” Or even “Suck it up.”
“We are to love God with all of our heart and mind. And we are to love our neighbours as ourselves. So if we are to make room for the Divine, we are surely to make room for our kin, whether we agree with them or not.”
Why was I so shaken? I am no stranger to confrontation and I am far from thin skinned. I spent 24 years as a journalist in secular news media – on the frontlines as a reporter and later as a managing editor. I learned how to stand up to intimidation and bullying. I’ve been attacked, verbally and physically, as I tried to do my job. Mostly by the public, sometimes by colleagues. As a pastor, I have chaired contentious gatherings. Once, while leading an investigation into complaints against a minister, I was loudly jeered and heckled at a congregation meeting held over dinner. I honestly thought they were going to start throwing buns at me.
A few days after my Facebook experience, I woke from my daze and took stock. I reviewed what I had written. Did I cross the line? I ran through my list. Hold back on emotion – check. Engage on a rational level – check. Not take the bait – check. And yet the large majority of the responses to my replies were either negative, angry or dismissive. Yes, some folks engaged, but more often than not they would put words in my mouth and draw unfair or inaccurate conclusions about what I was really trying to say. I took inventory of the trigger words in their responses: “gross, violent, problematic, nope, wrong, flat wrong, shaken, oppression, control, denial of science.” In a civil debate, all of this would be ruled out of order.
You might be wondering what horrible things I said that set them off. As stated, I don’t want to stoke anything and reveal too much. Let’s just say I was bringing a traditional Biblical view to matters of gender roles and fluidity. That’s it. Simply offering an opposing point of view was a trigger. Rather than offering reasoned opinion in an effort to calm the waters, what resulted were waves. Had I done more harm than good? Had I done a disservice to my evangelical kin? Did the water that I poured actually fall on an electrical fire rather than regular combustibles, causing it to spread even more?
Two weeks later. Here is what I have learned, or been reminded of:
- We are quick to judge, draw incomplete and incorrect conclusions and condemn others. This includes me even when I am deliberately trying to be righteous.
- Our political and theological positions in the PCC are so deeply entrenched and far apart that it seems we are from different religions.
- The enemy uses divisions within the church to further divide us and weaken our witness.
- The church has moved far beyond physical walls and is found wherever two or three are gathered.
- Some people within the faith believe that scripture and the church are inherently problematic and are to be dismissed.
- Social media is not the place to engage in debate. I knew that before. Why did I choose to engage?
- Despite the negatives, social media does have a useful place.
That said:
- I will continue to speak the truth that Christ is the only way to justification and sanctification, but will do so carefully and in love.
- I will continue to be a consumer and participant (albeit limited) on social media.
- When I post (which is not often) I will pray and think prior to seeking engagement.
- When I reply, I will read the invitation very closely to ensure I am not violating the author’s intent or the spirit of the post.
I seek forgiveness from those within orthodoxy for any harm I have done to the Biblical Christian witness. I seek forgiveness from progressives for any unintended harm. I seek forgiveness from God the Father for all of the above.
The wind has not been taken from my sails. I continue to welcome the breath of Christ whose Holy Spirit guides, protects, falls upon and dwells within.
I write this as we embark upon another Advent season, in which we are invited to make room in our hearts once again to welcome the reality of God with us and the promise that He will come again. We are to love God with all of our heart and mind. And we are to love our neighbours as ourselves. So if we are to make room for the Divine, we are surely to make room for our kin, whether we agree with them or not. Amen.
