Some time ago I wrote this post about why I left Facebook and how it was affecting me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. You can read the whole thing at the link above, but the abridged version of the lesson learned from my social media sabbatical is that I no longer feel the compulsion to make sure that everyone has the correct information all of the time. Removing that label from myself and pulling myself out of those spaces made me realize that my good intentions had been corrupted and the fatigue of constant correction and butting heads with people I once respected had worn me out and affected the relationships in my life.
And so here I find myself again, engaging in these spaces once more, but with the knowledge of where I came from before. I am so careful to consider the things that I post on social media and the effect it might have. I submit it to prayer, I try to find scripture that supports my message, and I always consider the different angles for how it might look to certain people. If everything doesn’t line up, despite my conviction telling me that I should say SOMETHING, I won’t post anything. In fact, there have been dozens of times where I have typed out a whole post over something that I’m passionate about and convinced that everyone needs to see that I just end up deleting the whole thing.
I don’t explain this process as a way to brag about it or make you feel like I’m better than you; I do this to show that I do have an expansive process and that what I post is not ignorant or mindless.
The problem that I continually seem to run into is that these rules are self-imposed, meaning that it is very unlikely that other people moderate their own posting habits the same way.
I’m doing my best to find my voice again, and to present it in a way that is accountable but also challenging the status quo. I’ve received consequences in the past for speaking up about what’s on my heart; things that the church should be addressing directly but are too afraid will get lost in the muck of posting online since people are ALWAYS looking to take things out of context and twist things in the worst way possible.
Even in writing this, I’m wary that there are people who aim to make an example of me, who will point to this as proof that I’m chasing clout or glorifying sin or dividing congregations. For as long as I have been in evangelical spaces, there have been people telling me the condition of my heart without bothering to seek and understand who I am underneath. I’ve been painted as rebellious, incendiary, immature, and broken, among other things. And while all of these traits are painfully inaccurate, the best part of having critics is the self-actualization and reflection I’ve done as a result.
You can ask my wife. Every time a critique is raised against me, I won’t deflect or get defensive. I’ll immediately search inward and ask myself: “Is this true?” “Was I wrong?” And when I ruminate on these things and bring them up to her, she’ll tell me if I am or not. I can trust her to be honest with me, because she was the one who held the mirror up to me in the first place. This is the correct posture of being critiqued. Searching within yourself and really trying to uncover and find if you fit the portrait of your accusers. I’ve been humbled, and I’ve also had reason to reject what has been said about me.
But don’t miss this part:
If you don’t have a heart that is seeking humility and instead feeds off of pride, you won’t ever get a clear answer.
To qualify this statement again, this isn’t me making a bold statement of being the most humble man in the world. I’m not. Very much not. But I can recognize when who I am or what I’ve said or what I’ve done might have extended beyond what I meant and hurt other people, and provide the proper posture of reconciliation.
Allow me to tell a story that illustrates this point.
I had been let go from one of my teaching positions and was receiving heartfelt messages from my now former students about how much they would miss me. It was a truly overwhelming outpouring of love that validated me in my passion despite other people seeing me differently. But there was one message in the mix that I was so thankful for. There was one student who did not have adulations to rain upon me; no stories of how I had impacted her life for the better. She expressed that she had never felt safe in my classroom, and in fact that I had picked on her and bullied her to the point that she felt insecure in any class that I taught. She told me she couldn’t understand why so many students loved me when I had made her life feel that much more terrible from being in my class.
This message shook me to my core, and in reality I was at a crossroads here. I could have very much responded in my feelings, defensively, and told her that that wasn’t true, she was wrong, and that I loved all of my students and would never do any of the heinous things that she described me doing. But then I thought about it from her perspective. And all of the good natured and light comments I had said from my point of view now took on a different shade when considering it from hers. I apologized. I made sure to take responsibility for the ignorance in my part, and to encourage her that I had no ill will against her, despite her being sure that I had a personal vendetta. She didn’t owe me forgiveness, and I don’t think I ever got any, but I needed to make sure that my posture was humble and apologetic. I did not intentionally hurt her, but she was still hurt, and that was enough for me to try and make things right.
These are the things I think about before I engage in controversial topics with people I know will never agree with or understand me. I pride myself on having a lot of patience, and that goes a long way in these conversations, but unfortunately is almost always never enough. But I don’t go back and forth with people any more. The moment I realize the conversation is starting to circle the drain and devolve into two people trying to prove each other wrong, I stop. That was one of the most freeing revelations that God gave to me in all of this:
I don’t owe anyone a response.
I can choose not to engage just as much as I can choose to engage. My pride says that means that I’m running away from conflict; that I’m letting them think that they won just because I didn’t respond. Who cares? Let them think they won. I am not beholden to this and I don’t need to let that control me.
So for the time being, especially with the election cycle coming up (which I swear just might kill me), I will continue to post things every now and again. My goal is to make it less political and more of a reminder for my fellow people in faith. There are some wildly insensitive, and frankly, super biased and hateful takes out there from people who call themselves Christians. I can’t sit idly by as people speak irresponsibly or allow others to perpetuate cycles of hate. If that means I get pushback, that’s fine with me. If I get called passive aggressive, then so be it. If I get critiqued for being a leftist who virtue signals, that’s your prerogative.
My intent is to hold Christians, and churches too, accountable to be the body of Christ, and that CANNOT happen if we allow their tongues to steer them towards destruction.
I don’t do this to please myself or to appease any crowd that may or may not be supportive of me. I do this because the love of God compels me. I have no hate in my heart for the ignorance that people speak; if I hated you then I would say nothing at all.
Love takes discipline though, and acceptance even more so, because at the end of the day, you have to be humble enough to see the problem at all.
Everything to Nothing 