There is a trend heating up that I can’t ignore or even articulate. It’s attractive and feel-good. No, it’s not Jimmy Fallon, baked donuts, or tattoo removal (though I’m a fan of all three).
My dad always said “if the whole world is running toward it, it’s best to stay far away”, something I detested as a teenager. But his discretion–my teenage freedom–was always marked by wisdom, and it suited his children well to heed his warning. I am grateful for parents who swam upstream when the current was moving decidedly in the other direction.
Maybe it’s because I’m thirty-five (that’s halfway to seventy, by the way) and turning into a version of my dad. Maybe it’s the mom in me, the future men in my house, the future woman with her tangle of curls, sitting in my lap. Or maybe it’s because screens are everywhere all the time, feeding us a constant stream of news, and I can’t look away from the train wreck. But it’s disconcerting. I aim to pin down this wiggly matter and proclaim it to the next generation.
The culture of my beloved country is changing. Any wild idea can be lassoed and tamed into some different, made-up flavor of truth. Twelve years ago I took a college level course called Social Deviance. We picked apart behavioral anomalies and wrote research papers on everything from crossdressing to obesity. It was a legit, junior-level class, and none of my classmates blinked twice when it came to sorting out social deviants from their counterparts. I don’t think it is too ridiculous to assume now that that particular psychology class has been deleted from the curriculum. Look around, and social deviance is the new norm. In fact, you will be taunted and your good name destroyed if you even attempt to disagree with this new weirdness smelling up the air. It’s lauded in the media and paraded through our schools, libraries, workplaces, and churches.
At our local library, children’s museum, and science center, employees wear rainbow colored nametags. I’m sure they do this with dignity, not batting an eye, convinced they are open minded, bolstering inclusivity. Do they think this is loving like a neighbor? For sure! Do they consider this is part of LGBTQ propaganda? No way.
Is it hospitable or appropriate for them to declare their opinion on sexual rights to my children? I think it’s pretty unnecessary. Most of the kids I see roaming these places aren’t yet old enough to understand the sex talk.
I’m trying to view this through a lens of love, while trying to understand the seriousness of the situation. These “ambassadors” think they are loving like a neighbor. They don’t know Jesus, or they’ve so ignored Him that they’ve come up with a new definition of love.
I’ve been having a hard time sleeping at night because I’ve been thinking about this. How do we navigate life for our kids when the most outrageous deviant behavior from twelve years ago is now commonplace? Christians are to reflect the love of Jesus, but now we are the enemies, the deviants of current culture? What is love, and how do I show it?
I’ll admit; sometimes I dole out some heavy judgment at the ridiculousness that plagues our American lives. Men that “feel” like women, gender nonconformity, obsession over appearance, and a sexual revolution are really only indicative of confused self-worship. It feels heavy, but it is nothing new.
Oftentimes fury over the state of our country clouds my vision. But when I sit in judgment, I condemn myself. I consider myself a healthy, logical, clear-thinking person, but Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:17)
I forget my need for Jesus, and that we are all, every one of us, wasting away with sin disease in our hearts. I forget that I, too, have struggled with sexual sin, abuse, obsessive behavior, hate, pride. I have had doubts that God really loves me.
When I have been humbled by this fact, it is much easier for me to look at people with love. To the woman with the buzzed head, to the man who paints eyeshadow on his lids: I care more about you than your nametag. If you are sick and want to know the Physician, I won’t look away, won’t feel ashamed. I’ve sat in the waiting room myself, hoping for the doctor to cure what ails me.
Still, there are some who are sinsick and don’t want relief. Jen Hatmaker, a well-known Christian author, announced she finished writing her newest book, a “manifesto” for LGBTQ rights. Glennon Melton Doyle tweeted, “If you want to know where a church stands on inclusion, do not ask who they invite to attend. Ask who they hire to LEAD, If there are no leaders who are people of color, women, queer–you have your answer.”
This is a twisting of the gospel, an angle that equates sin with diversity. It is yet another half-truth, the worst kind of insidious lie. It claims that the Savior is just good juju, and your worst nightmare rush hour traffic accident is really just a fender bender. Folks who believe this are solidly convinced by their own self-righteousness. You really can’t be changed because this is your identity. Jesus warned his disciples of people like this when he said, “the time is coming when anyone who kills you will think they are offering a service to God. They will do such things because they have not known the Father or me.” (John 16:2-3)
Their words are venom doused with expensive perfume.
Words will fly–let them. It doesn’t mean we ought to shut up and mind our own business. After all, we are all displaying nametags, rainbow-colored or not. I can’t hide my Christian stripes, for I, like Paul am “unashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ” (Romans 1:16). 1 Peter 3 reminds me to “be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior may be ashamed of their slander.” I’ve never come up with beautiful conversation on my own, but somehow “letting your gentleness be evident to all” (Phil. 4:5) is enough for a stranger to become a friend.
It is time for believers to speak out with boldness, without fear of repercussion, not unlike Jeremiah did back in his time. He lived among his Jewish people who were whoring themselves out to the idols of their day. His introverted heart was broken at the ugliness, but he loved his people more than he feared speaking to them. We, like Jeremiah, must claim a similar territory, with burdened hearts pounding and fire in our bones. The liberal person of today thinks they are doing folks a favor by approving of self-seeking, what-feels-good behavior, but they are ultimately confused on who Love is. They are searching for sparkly, temporary salve. They are like little children plugging their ears, ignoring their daddy and toddling out into traffic. But God is so loving that He has sent His Son into the mess of rush hour to take the blow for us. And this is the miracle above all miracles: we aren’t being coerced, forced, or pushed into accepting a Savior. Real love only rescues you from the mess when you are good and ready to shout help me!
I ask the Lord to replay again and again the story of how He has snatched me from the danger of self-love and obsession. It is life to me–a song of pure, abounding energy. Love saved me. I’ll never get tired of telling others, and this is the very thing the Lord asks us to do. Not to condemn, but to point to Jesus.
I was sinking deep in sin
Far from the peaceful shore,
Very deeply stained within,
Sinking to rise no more;
But the Master of the sea
Heard my despairing cry,
From the waters lifted me,
Now safe am I
Love lifted me
Love lifted me
When nothing else could help
Love lifted me
(James Rowe, Howard E. Smith)
