ínѕpírє

Today is Good Friday. At least, that’s what we call it. But make no mistake, Good Friday was the worst Friday, until Sunday. I’m talking about the absolute worst Friday of all Fridays. The perfect, unblemished Lamb of God drank down our shame, and somehow we have the audacity to call that day “good?”

Think about it. We modernists, frequently ask, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” And yet, on Good Friday, the worst things happened to the best person, and most of us barely blink. But of course, we don’t blink because we live on the other side of Easter. We live in the revelation of sin atoned for and our Messiah’s victory over death. We aren’t nervous as Christ unthinkably marches to his death. We almost scoff at the unbelief of the disciples as they scatter and run. “Don’t they know what’s happening?” We balk. “Don’t they remember Jesus said he’d rise again?” “Don’t they know it’s all gonna be alright?” It’s amazing what we can understand in the rear view.

So this “Good Friday,” I sit here pondering in retrospect just what God was up to, and how, maybe one day, in this life or the next, I’ll be able look back on certain “Worst Fridays” of my own, and see that God was up to something beautiful even then. Maybe one day, all my Worst Fridays will be Good Fridays when I fully see the glorious redemptive power of our God in all its fullness.

I won’t lie, I’ve often been confounded why Jesus felt the need to be dead til Sunday. I’m sure there’s lots of cultural and historical relevance here that I’m not aware of, but I’m serious.   I’ve thought, “Why couldn’t He just have been dead til Saturday? Why make the disciples wait a whole extra day?”

I am the chief among sinners. I’ve stolen. I’ve lied. I’ve cheated. I’ve committed adultery in my heart and murdered in my mind. I am a disgrace, a convict in need of pardon, an orphan in need of a Father.

And yet, Christ saw me, loved me, and gave Himself for me. He lived the life I could never live, died the death that I deserved, and rose again over all I could never conquer on my own.  He breathed His Spirit into me.  He broke through the stone walls of my heart and gave me a heart of flesh. He bought me. He won me. He called me His own.

So now, I give all that I am to Him.  I am His and He is mine.  He is my life and in Him I live and move and have my being.  I am not who I once was.  I’ve been remade.  I no longer come to the world with clenched fists, I come with open hands.  I do not come with a swinging gavel, I come with a life laid down. Servant to all, friend to sinners, I come the way Jesus came to me.

Which means I get to embrace everyone.

If they complained that Jesus hung out with sinners than I hope the same will be said of me.  Homosexuals, chief justices, prostitutes, picketers, preachers; there is no one beneath my service. There is no one beneath my love.  I love those who disagree with me. I love those who boycott me. I love those who tell me I need to stand for truth and I love those who tell me my truth is not theirs.

I get to love everybody.

Of course, the question remains, how do I do that? I mean, practically speaking, how do I truly love people? What does that even mean?  What does it look like?  Does loving someone mean agreeing with everything they do and everything they are? Can you even love a culture who feels hated if they’re disagreed with? How do I love the souls with differing beliefs, especially when minds are made up on two opposing sides? How do I build bridges to Jesus and to others? And in what ways could I be unknowingly burning those bridges down?

I don’t think I have the answers figured out on many of these, but I do know this, I am not called to judge the world. It’s true. Especially if you believe the Bible is true, because Paul even agrees;

“When I wrote to you before, I told you not to associate with people who indulge in sexual sin. But I wasn’t talking about unbelievers who indulge in sexual sin, or are greedy, or cheat people, or worship idols. You would have to leave this world to avoid people like that.” (1 Corinthians 5:9-10 NLT)

I also am quite certain I’m to offer my two cents with supreme tact and kindness.

“Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people’s hearts, and they will learn the truth.” (2 Timothy 2:25 NLT)

James echoes this thought when he says the wisdom of God is first of all pure and kind and adds, “Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires.” (James 1:19-20 NLT)

So let’s recap. I am loved by God and have been given the ministry of reconciliation. In spite of all I’ve done to undeserve His love, He has won me back and invited me to be a part of His work. That is, I’m here to tell people God wants them back.  I get to tell the world God wants them. How do I do that?  Well, I don’t have it all figured out, but I know it does include laying my life down, serving like crazy, not judging, being gentle, listening, and not getting angry, because anger does not produce righteousness.

Got it.

Now, what does that mean for gay marriage?

To say the decision today was a big deal, is a gross understatement.  I wouldn’t even call it “landmark,” I would call it; “nuclear.”  The Supreme Court ruling sent supporters into the stratosphere with joy. Rainbow flags blew up the internet while #LoveWins came straight from the oval office. Furthermore, it sent adversaries into a state of mourning. Doomsday prophecies abounded.  Fingers were pointed.  Prayers were offered.  Hard lines were driven into the sand. I posted a pic without really thinking saying the decision was “historic.”  In a few minutes, I was labeled a heretic, a hero, and a demon; and I didn’t even think I had offered an opinion.

I scrambled. I regretted posting anything, I felt like I was in the middle of a cultural crossfire and I was being commanded to choose; with the only two sides being avid support or open hostility.  I didn’t want to be a proponent of either.  

So I sought solace from my sister and as always, she helped ease my mind. First, she reminded me how the internet gives people all the authority and none of the responsibility to say things they would never say to someone’s face. She also called to mind how Jesus seldom gave people a straight answer, particularly when they weren’t motivated by love.  My friend Audrey pontificated with me via text;  "I don’t understand when the church got co-opted by the idea that legislating morality was the same thing as preaching the gospel. The sooner we stop trying to run society and start loving our neighbor, the sooner the Church gains footing in people’s lives and is able to welcome them, teach them, whatever. Why wring our hands over the culture? If the Church starts to experience persecution, so be it.“

And that’s just what I want to say to you.  What if we stopped trying to be heard and just tried to hear?  What if we served people so well, they were desperate to hear what we thought, because they knew we truly wanted what’s best for them?  That kind of love is more like what I saw Jesus doing.

It's…incarnational.

It’s Jesus coming and living among us for thirty years, before He did one miracle.  It’s the kind of love that’s messy and practical and can never be lived out on a soap box.  It’s what we were made for.

When I was working at a church in Florida, I had the privilege of mentoring several young men who were experiencing an overwhelming flood of same-sex attraction.  It was strange how many came to me at the same time.  To be perfectly honest, I didn’t know how to respond.  I had never dealt with the issue personally, so I couldn’t offer meaningless rhetoric like, "yeah dude, I totally know how you feel.”  And since no one I knew was friends with anyone who was homosexual at the time, I felt so powerlessly under-prepared for the conversations that followed. I mean, what do I say?  "God hates that you know?“  "You really disgust me man, you should try liking women instead?”  Of course not!!!  They didn’t need me to tell them they were going to hell.  They didn’t need to be told their sin was worse than mine.  They had enough condemnation heaped on them to last several lifetimes.  You know what they did need though?  They needed to be heard.  Seen.  They needed someone to hug them, cry with them, listen to them.  They needed a friend who wouldn’t run in disgust, but run to them with open arms.

And you know, that’s still the case.  Today, I have several gay friends and family members, and if they don’t want to hear my stance on their sexuality, I don’t offer it.  Maybe that sounds bizarre to you, but after the friendships I’ve built and the conversations we’ve had, I’m quite convinced when it comes to the deep places of a person’s heart, like their sexual desires, the privilege of speaking to those things is something that must be built with time and trust. And it must be asked for, not thrown down from above.  If you recall, Jesus didn’t even reprimand the wiring of the woman at the well, He simply asked her why she hadn’t come to Him for water.

Maybe the biggest thing I’ve had a hard time with today, is the sentiment that it’s my job to tell the whole world how to live.  Maybe it has to do with growing up in a Capitalistic society, or maybe it’s just a result of the digital revolution where something can be seen and shared by hundreds of millions of people in a few hours, but either way, I firmly believe it isn’t my calling to steward the morality of mankind.  I’m simply called to make disciples.  And that, is a down and dirty, one person at a time kind of a calling.  It’s small, often times thankless, and it’s not a campaign.  It’s a kingdom. LIke Paul said, I’m not called to judge the world, I’m called to love the world. I’m not even called to change the world, that’s the Holy Spirit’s job.  I’m to simply introduce people to Jesus, and let Him do the rest.  If He is life, my job should be to bring others to His arms, and let the power of His love shift their thinking.  I make the introduction, but Jesus wins their heart.

So, with that, let me remind you of a few last things.