What the Hell Happened?
Dear Open and Relational (Process) Readers,
You and I alike believe that God is love. You and I alike believe that Christianity is a path of love. I know that some of you grew up in churches that were not loving at all. You turn to open and relational theology, of which process theology is a version, because you seek an alternative you've never really known. That's not my experience; I grew up in a United Methodist Church in San Antonio, Texas, that taught me about kindness and love. It was not evangelical, but it was much like "the church of my youth" described below. The prose-poem below is a modified version of a blog by Chris Kratzer called: "Evangelical Christian: What the hell did you expect me to do?" The full, unmodified version, slightly stronger in tone and without the opening phrase referring to "the church of my youth," can be found here. I do not know who did the modifying, as it was shared widely on Facebook. That's where I discovered it. I contacted him, and he explained that the version below is, in his words, "forged." But it speaks to me, and all of it is language he gives us. I leave you with the modified version because its opening line, the phrase "church of my youth," speaks to the experience of many I know in the open and relational movement. We who grew up in a warm and loving Christianity miss that church, or at least the image of Christianity it promoted, even as it did not always live up to the image. We experienced "church" as a place that talked about love, acceptance, and inclusion—a place where God is Love. In so many circles, this image has been replaced by a message of harshness, control, and hatred. What happened? We hope that the "church of our youth" might become a possibility for the future. That's why we are drawn to the open and relational movement, even as we did not grow up evangelicals. We are not battling against images of an angry God we learned as youth. We're battling against images of Christianity as itself angry and wrathful. We miss those images. But, for now, we can only ask, along with Chris Kratzer, what the hell happened? Please click here for the original, unabridged version.
Jay McDaniel
To the Church of my Youth
Chris Kratzer (mostly)
To the church of my youth,
What did you expect me to do?
You taught me to love my neighbors, to model the life of Jesus. To be kind and considerate, and to stand up for the bullied.
You taught me to love people, consider others as more important than myself.
You taught me to sing "red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight."
We sang it together, pressing the volume pedal and leaning our hearts into the chorus. You said that “He loved all the children of the world”.
You taught me to love my enemies, to even do good to those who wish for bad things. You taught me to never "hate" anyone and to always find ways to encourage people.
You taught me it's better to give than receive, to be last instead of first. To help the poor, the widow, the stranger at the gate.
You taught me that Jesus looks at what I do for the least-of-these as the true depth of my faith. You taught me to focus on my own sin and not to judge. You taught me to be accepting and forgiving.
So I paid attention.
I took in every lesson.
And I did what you taught me.
But now, you call me a “libtard”. A queer-lover. You call me "woke." A backslider. You call me a heretic. You make fun of my heart. You mock the people I’m trying to help. You say I’m a child of the devil. You call me soft. A snowflake. A socialist. You shun the very people you told me to help.
What did you expect me to do?
I thought you were serious, but apparently not.
You hate nearly all the people I love. You stand against nearly all the things I stand for. I'm trying to see a way forward, but it's hard when I survey all the hurt, harm, and darkness that comes in the wake of your beliefs and presence.
What did you expect me to do?
I believed it all the way.
I'm still believing it all the way.
Which leaves me wondering, what happened to you?
What did you expect me to do?
You taught me to love my neighbors, to model the life of Jesus. To be kind and considerate, and to stand up for the bullied.
You taught me to love people, consider others as more important than myself.
You taught me to sing "red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight."
We sang it together, pressing the volume pedal and leaning our hearts into the chorus. You said that “He loved all the children of the world”.
You taught me to love my enemies, to even do good to those who wish for bad things. You taught me to never "hate" anyone and to always find ways to encourage people.
You taught me it's better to give than receive, to be last instead of first. To help the poor, the widow, the stranger at the gate.
You taught me that Jesus looks at what I do for the least-of-these as the true depth of my faith. You taught me to focus on my own sin and not to judge. You taught me to be accepting and forgiving.
So I paid attention.
I took in every lesson.
And I did what you taught me.
But now, you call me a “libtard”. A queer-lover. You call me "woke." A backslider. You call me a heretic. You make fun of my heart. You mock the people I’m trying to help. You say I’m a child of the devil. You call me soft. A snowflake. A socialist. You shun the very people you told me to help.
What did you expect me to do?
I thought you were serious, but apparently not.
You hate nearly all the people I love. You stand against nearly all the things I stand for. I'm trying to see a way forward, but it's hard when I survey all the hurt, harm, and darkness that comes in the wake of your beliefs and presence.
What did you expect me to do?
I believed it all the way.
I'm still believing it all the way.
Which leaves me wondering, what happened to you?
