Dear Friend with Whom I Disagree

“Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.” The Apostle Paul (1 Cor. 10:12)

I climbed out of bed this morning after fretful dreams. The anxiety of yesterday carried over and as a result, I spent the night packing and repacking boxes. I know it wasn’t real but it some ways it is; the world is on fire and I intuitively feel a need to get out.

I read the headlines with dread. More death. More violence. I read another commentator who rails on about the problem while proposing a radical solution. I wonder if she’s right.

I want to do something. I want to bind up wounds. I want to speak words of peace. I want to read my bible. Instead, I hop on social media and see your post.

I am immediately offended. I can’t believe you are taking that stand. What in the world are you thinking? Don’t you realize the consequences of your choice? I rage in my mind because I believe I have a truth you don’t have and it has now become my responsibility to educate you. So I fire off a sentence. A paragraph. I insert exclamation points and pointed words. Or worse, I just plug in a link to an hour long video.

We go back and forth until one of us capitulates or “unfriends” the other. And then I curl into bed and weep. Or worse, I embrace my raging endorphins and go trolling for someone else to antagonize into my way of thinking. Sometimes, this is how I manage soul-crushing fear.

We are divided, you and I, by an invisible line of ideology. We have arrived at different conclusions because of our different life experiences. But I am beginning to see a painful truth: shouting across the divide is not helping anything. More importantly, I love you. I see the divide–the horrible gap between us–and it makes me sad. So I wrote you a letter.

I pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil and I scribbled a lot of words–concepts and thoughts that have been bubbling inside of me–and sealed them in an envelope. I felt like I was in highschool again. I put all of my hopes and dreams into that letter as I prayed for God to build a bridge between us. Then I licked the envelope, attached a stamp, and put it into the mail.

You see, I have been thinking about when we first met. I remember the thrill of realization that you liked me. I didn’t have a lot of self-confidence then so your approval was important. You invited me to your home and fed me pizza. You listened to me as I shared my story and I listened while you shared yours. I was surprised and maybe even a little intimidated by your kindnesses. You accepted me; warts and all. We enjoyed sweet fellowship and comraderies. And life went on.

You taught me about the practical gospel of Jesus. You told me about grace. More importantly, you modeled grace. I stumbled and fell, but you didn’t cast me away. You made known to me the paths of life. I learned that to follow Jesus is a painful and difficult path. The ideas he expects his followers to exhibit are controversial. Such as this:

“Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” Jesus (via the Gospel of Matthew 7:13-14)

We have long been united in our faith in God and our love for our fellow man. We have worshipped together in a building and sang songs together. But practically speaking, I have noticed for some time that our real-life conversations have centered on other things. Instead of “iron sharpening iron” we have been more like blunt sticks in the hands of two prepubescent boys. We have been whiners and gossips and busy bodies. And we have taken refuge in the shelter of Lord Fearing. And worse, it is not just you and I. The whole body is infected with our disease. We have stopped looking to the One we love and cherish and instead at our circumstances. Just like Peter, who was confident he could walk on the water, we have awakened to the wind and the waves and we are sinking.

So when you called me to discuss the letter, I was started at your rebuke. You dug in. You scorned me. The words were like poisoned darts to my soul. I retreated. I apologized. But we cannot put them back into your mouth to be unsaid. And I have been wondering since if you ever knew me at all. Was your kindness for show? Is there any way to heal this wound between us?

The storm is here. Of this there can be no doubt. But instead of uniting under our Head, we fight about trivialities. We have become numbed by distractions and comfortable in our pride. As if we had all the answers. As if we knew exactly what was happening in the world and how to proceed. We have lost sight of who the real Enemy is and continued to bludgeon each other. My lip is swollen and your eye is blackened and he is laughing at us while the winds howl.

“But if we are the body, why aren’t His arms reaching? Why aren’t His hands healing? Why aren’t His words teaching? And if we are the body, why aren’t His feet going? Why is His love not showing them there is a way? There is a way.” Casting Crowns

King David wrote of the agony I feel when I consider what has been lost.

“For it is not an enemy who taunts me–then I could bear it; it is not an adversary who deals insolently with me–then I could hide from him. But it is you, a man, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend. We used to take sweet counsel together, within God’s house we walked in the throng.” Psalm 55:12-14

So here we are. The battle has begun and we are an army divided. I am standing on my hill and you are standing on yours. And I think both our hills are dumb hills to die on. The battlefield is in the valley and the slaughter has begun. And so today, I lay down my stick and take up my Sword. I ask your forgiveness for the bitter words I said. I pray you will forgive me as I forgive you for the cruel things you said. Because I know I don’t have all the answers and neither do you. We are both at different places in our journey and we each have a specific position to defend, but we can’t defend anything if we are busy stabbing at each other.

Friend, I love you. And that love transcends ideology, philosophy and even physiology. Our time is now. And it’s time to fight. Will you fight with me?