Christians and Violence

 

What makes the Christian perspective on violence different is the goal. Christians believe the future is a world without fear or death, a world in which violence does not exist. Our goal is not to minimize violence – we have not succumbed to the death-dealing notion that it is inevitable – we believe there is an end to violence, that it will be completely eliminated.

Christians take a long view on these things. The world which is coming may not (almost certainly will not) be realized in our lifetimes. We are committed to a lifestyle that may produce no visible results before we die. It may seem pointless and foolhardy in our present; this is why it’s called faith.

In light of that, killing can never be justified. Taking a life should be something with which the killer wrestles for the rest of their days. It should be conflicting and troubling; feelings of guilt should not be unexpected. Whether it is abortion or war or self defense, killing may, in fact, be the preferred option in a given scenario, but that does not make it “right.”

It’s never heroic to kill, even in the name of justice or the defense of innocence, even if you never regret doing it. Heroism is an action of discipline or creativity or plain dumb luck whereby someone stumbles into a non-violent means of making a real difference in the world. No action ever makes a person a hero or a villain, because no human being can ever be entirely defined by what they do.

History has shown us that opposing violence with violence only compounds the problem, even if some short term benefits are realized. If the goal is to minimize violence, there’s some argument for force opposing force, but if the goal, as it is for followers of Jesus Christ, is to realize a world without violence; it is never the answer.

Yes, we live in a world where killing exists and one where there will continue to be people who kill with the best of intentions. Our response, though, should not be to absolve them of guilt or normalize those actions – it should be to wrestle and grieve alongside them as they process the primal violation of existence that is the taking of life. Our job, as it is at all times, is to love unconditionally, because it is only love – especially love of those we would like to kill – that will ever end violence.

A Spirit of Pain and Optimism

I spent the past weekend at Mid-Atlantic District Assembly - the annual gathering of Church of the Nazarene congregations from DC, Delaware, Maryland, the panhandle of WV, and Central PA.  It was our first opportunity to be together in person since 2019.  We were in a new location, with a new schedule, so a lot of the weekend was feeling things out.  I definitely didn't get to have the same kinds or the same number of conversations I've been used to in the past.

Those conversations I did have, though, were really interesting.  COVID has allowed a lot of congregations to break bad habits and engage in loving people creatively and with intention in ways that previous structures didn't allow very well.  I felt a real sense of emphasis and attention on connection - which makes total sense after a prolonged period of being separate.

I know the last two years were a real struggle for a lot of pastors.  There were internal battles over QAnon and mask wearing perpetuated by the continued alignment of fundamentalist evangelicalism and far right politics.  I heard very few of those discussions, though.  While that kind of conversation will not be going away any time soon, the pastors I call peers are really dedicated to the gospel and, as hard as it is, have generally found ways to speak into the encroaching cultures with gospel truth.

The place where that's not happening though, is in how we deal with LGBTQIA+ conversations.  It's an issue becoming increasingly relevant to Nazarene congregations, who have a pastoral necessity to engage in tough conversations about sexuality, chastity, and morality in an atmosphere that encouraged entrenchments on extreme positions with an existential fear that allowing for a consideration of the opposite position equals defeat or betrayal.

As I've explained to my local mainline protestant pastor friends, "The Church of the Nazarene can't even have calm, rational theological conversation about the sinfulness of consuming a drop of alcohol; we're definitely not ready for discussions of human sexuality."

We are, after all, an extremely conservative denomination (80+% of Nazarenes in the US voted for Trump - and many of our other world areas, where the vast majority of members live, are often even more conservative in both theology and politics), that only just recently removed the word "abomination" from our core language about queer folks - a statement that falls distinctly into "Side B" language, despite common practice that won't even allow that much leeway in most contexts.

I heard a number of anecdotal references to the conversation our General Superintendents have with candidates before they're ordained.  I'm hesitant to share them without real confirmation, but it's in line with the institutional shift, so I'll do it for now - but if any recent ordinands or General Superintendents want to disabuse me of this notion, I'll gladly apologize and amend.

I've been told the GS will make clear that ordinands can't drink alcohol and that they must be in line with the current statement on LGBTQIA+ issues.  This is interesting, because it makes a distinction between practice and belief.  They're not asking pastors to agree with the statement on alcohol (which could be much better, as I've discussed before), just to follow it.  They seem to be setting a higher bar when it comes to queer people.

I disagree with the position of the Church of the Nazarene.  I think it should be changed.  I've written about it before and will continue to advocate as we move forward.  I disagree with the position, but I've also committed not to perform a wedding my accrediting denomination doesn't allow me to officiate.  It's essentially the position they seem to be asking of clergy in terms of alcohol - you don't have to like our position, but you need to follow it.

That they're taking a harder line when it comes to LGBTQIA+ issues is completely in line with the institutional conservation model the Church of the Nazarene has been operating in for a while now.  They're doing and advocating for things that best aid the continued function of the denomination, even if they're going to make the far future more difficult.  Yes, its short sighted, but it's also about the only thing they can do without turning the whole thing into chaos.

It's a tough position to be in - just like the position of our Nazarene colleges and universities - stuck between an existential rock and hard place.  Offering grace and engaging publicly in conversations will create tears in the fabric and endanger the continued existence of Nazarene institutions.  That danger is real and scary.  I don't envy the people making those decisions.

At the same time, though, while this feeling of institutional retrenchment pervaded the weekend, I had conversation after conversation where pastors told me to keep pushing, keep asking questions, keep advocating for conversation and consideration.  Even those pastors who agree with the official denominational position understand the real complexities that exist in the practical living out of ideas in congregation and community and want to be free to talk about an issue that's long been a third rail.

From my perspective, it is an existential reality.  The only people I know who'd be comfortable with the human sexuality stance of the Church of the Nazarene are those currently participating in or who've been raised in conservative Christianity.  This group is growing smaller with every passing year.

I don't think we should change our position simply because its less popular.  If you know me, you know I gravitate towards unpopular ideas.  I go out of my way to find and embrace them.  I've changed my mind on the inclusion of LGBTQIA+ folks because of my study of scripture in an attempt to better defend the Nazarene position.

I've been converted by the Holy Spirit through the careful study of scripture.  I've been confirmed in my decision by working with a lot of really great, young pastors in my local congregation.  We've had a succession of queer pastors and pastoral students working in congregations in town.  Most of them have come from Baptist, Wesleyan, and Evangelical contexts where their ministry was not welcome.  They're some of the best example of holiness people I know - fervent in pursuit of the gospel and the Kingdom, willing to serve and learn and love like Jesus.

I still have great hope because the Church of the Nazarene continues to be full of similarly humble and committed servants - clergy and lay, young and old - committed to scriptural holiness and determined to live outrageously counter-cultural gospel lives in the world around them.  I know it's going to be a tricky process moving forward.  I don't know what the outcome will be, but I have great faith the God who has seen us this far will continue to lead and guide if we follow passionately and graciously.

I don't think the future is something to be feared, even if it requires difficult conversations.  Close relationships don't exist without tough and honest conversation.  I hope we continue to make space for them to take place - in our own homes, congregations, and lives, as well as in our communities, districts, and denominations.