And Now I Wonder...

I survived preaching on September 11. I even surprised myself on walking the line of political affiliation. And the sermon was more Gospel than me. It was prayed over, Spirit breathed on, that much I know.

I knew, though, the potential problems in my congregation. I can honestly attest to a few people skirting me at the door. A few others made a special stop to thank me. Some genuinely responded to the sermon. All in all, I'd say a pretty standard Sunday.

Before I preached at all, though, that sermon that inevitably tipped my hand away from something like "kill all the terrorists," the conversations were already flying about the tenth anniversary of the attacks. The person most adamantly sharing her beliefs was one well on the other side of things from me. It was that union of God and country that is almost synonymy. It also included her conviction that if the threat of the Muslims ever came too close, she would "lock and load." There were accompanying motions, as well.

I like this woman. I gratefully accepted the number of her hairdresser a few weeks ago. She's funny, in the witty, not over the top kind of way. Then this happened.

For the last few weeks, I've been considering more and more what boundaries place a person outside the Christian community. The questions started when about ten people walked out of worship a couple of weeks ago, which is a long story all by itself. In the fundamentalist world I grew up in, the ability to say something was outside accepted behavior of the Christian community was present. I can't say I agreed with the choices made even then, but I miss the ability to hold the community accountable.

The choice for accountability is made by a community that isn't so afraid of money or decline in numbers that it can take the risk of demanding something of a person's life. Most of the choices about accountability made in other communities weren't ones I would replicate now. They usually involved things like drinking alcohol in public and sex among teenagers. Even now, though, I respect the choice of accountability if not the parameters of it.

And now I wonder what to do with this member of my congregation. It's political, which is always messy. If I answer from a purely political stance, I'll surely throw around words like bigot and racist. But to love this woman does not mean looking the other way. To love her in the name of Christ does not mean that.

I am aware that I am offended by her beliefs and attitudes; I am also convinced that they are not Christian. While I believe Christians and Muslims worship the same God, she does not. She would say that Muslims are our enemies and a threat to our lives. Actually, she did say it. She believes they are persecuting us. Ok, then. Jesus said to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.

Really. Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.

Jesus didn't elaborate a lot on that particular teaching; Paul didn't elaborate a lot on penalties of not adhering to such behavior in a Christian community. There are no guidelines for how failure to adhere to a teaching might sever a person from the community.

Now I am wondering, though, where is that line? Where is that line that once crossed, means you're not welcome in this community any more?

I admit, I'm willing to draw the line right there, right where she crossed over from viewing a certain group of people as our enemies to wanting to destroy those enemies and believing that's the way it should be. For me, that is an utter failure to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

If I do draw that line, though, all of a sudden I have an enemy...an enemy I must love. At least I'm pretty sure that's how that works.

So now I'm left to wonder, is there anything so great that it can actually oust a person from the Christian community? Or is love really the greatest of all?