Are we still calling ourselves Christians?
Or are we done here?
Hi friends,
Oh, you’re a Christian? they ask carefully, cautiously. You can see their mind trying to make the puzzle pieces of what they know of you fit together with what they know about “those Christians” these days.
So quickly you try to clarify.
You attempt to cut their immediate assumptions off at the pass but like, in a jokey way.
You try to say it quickly, lightly, with a laugh even.
You say:
Yes, I’m a Christian - but not the fascist kind!
Yes, I’m a Christian - but not the January 6th kind!
Yes, I’m a Christian - but not the voting for felons who mock the disabled and assault women kind!
Yes, I’m a Christian - but not a ‘flouted government restrictions during COVID’ kind!
Yes, I’m a Christian - but not the science-denying, anti-vaccination, Nazi-saluting, Ukraine-abandoning, bullying, Canadian-sovereignty-threatening, cruelty-embracing, any ends-justifying-the-means, anti-immigrant, DEI-dismantling, marriage equality fighting, anti-refugee, violence-craving, tiki-torch carrying, rape-excusing-as-long-as-they’re-on-‘my-side’ politically, alternative reality, conspiracy theory, patriarchal, dominating, power-hungry, money-obsessed, virtue signalling while destroying others, nationalist kind.
(Maybe you got carried away there.)
And then your friend blinks and says, “….okay.”
It is turning into quite the mouthful of disclaimers for those of us who are trying to follow Jesus, isn’t it?
So I guess let’s talk about it.
Are we still calling ourselves Christians? Or are we done here?
More than ten years ago, in my book Out of Sorts: Making Peace with an Evolving Faith, I wrote this:
In my twenties, I decided to stop being a Christian because I did not want to be associated with the Church.
But I was still fascinated with Jesus.
For some time, I had been growing disenchanted with the Industrial Church Complex. I found some solace in the emerging church and in the rediscovery - for me, anyway - of ancient church traditions and the broader Church. I found progressive, thoughtful, and brilliant people among Christians. But for me and the Bride of Christ? Well, it still felt like I was just hanging on to a relationship that had already ended.
When I made the decision to stop going to church and to stop calling myself a Christian, it didn’t feel good. But there had been a long litany of abuses, burn-out, and exhaustion. The trail of hurt people, wounded souls, and even dead bodies was too great. It weighed on my soul, and I felt tremendous grief. I couldn’t align myself with this anymore.
I could no longer reason away or gloss over the systemic abuses of power, the bitterness, th bigotry and hypocrisy, the sexism and racism, the consumerism, the big business of church that was consuming people and spitting them out for the “greater good.” Church became the last place I wanted to be. I didn’t trust Christians. And I was tired of pretending that those things were not real.
…. “I don’t think I can be a Christian anymore,” I told my husband. I needed to separate from that word for a while: it felt too full of baggage and weight. I felt like it aligned me with people from whom I would rather separate.” (pages 29-30)
Well, cut to twenty years since then and it turns out the second verse is worse the first, eh?
I’ve lost count of how many folks have reached out to me to essentially say the same thing: why are we still calling ourselves Christians when the very name has become so synonymous with harm?