“Describe the God you don't believe in. Maybe I don't believe in that God either." — Tim Keller
In conversation with my ideological opposites, I’m often struck by the flurry of our dialogue. Maybe it’s because the human attention span has been lowered below that of a goldfish (totally true- look it up), but I think we stack way too many points with too much brevity. This is most clearly seen online. Often when I’m disagreeing with someone, neither of us take the time to define what we mean by one assertion or term before plowing right on to the next one.
Thankfully, the opinion that political and religious discourse is better suited for offline participation is growing in popularity- a consensus I’m happy to join. But this happens in our personal, “IRL” conversations as well.
When I first became a Christian, the above quote by Tim Keller was earth-shattering to me. Did I know what my Christian family believed about God’s attributes, or did I just assume I did? Was the God I had rejected even the God characterized in the Bible? My rebellion, which constituted much of my identity, was based on a breadth of assumptions. This realization was an important step in my God-led journey to repentance.
But what if our lazy, prideful tendency to double-down on our poorly-informed assumptions is more rampant than we think?
We see this in an overt (and offensive) way when someone ascribes to us a political view that we do not hold, simply because we hold other views within that ideological realm. Or when we feel pleased with ourselves for speaking so dismissively to others. We sling labels like McDonald’s slings burgers. Where, oh where, have the 90’s anti-label grunge kids gone! Suddenly, even the mildest pleas for consideration toward issues that appear systemic have you written of as a Marxist. Your pro-life neighbor, who believes in helping the vulnerable beyond the grave but isn’t sure she wants a government program funded by civil asset forfeiture to establish it, is now a Christian nationalist. Clear definitions are not arbitrary vocabulary. Instead, they help ideas progress and we must strive to stick to them in our discourse.
I believe this comes down to attention to detail. As easy as they might be to toss around Twitter and Facebook, the reality is that most people do not fit snugly into political categories. People are unpredictable and complex. Fearfully and wonderfully made, whose thoughts and beliefs are worthy of at least faithful representation. Our broad, sweeping political categories only serve to widen the ‘us vs. them’ divide that both sides accuse each other of promoting. When the humanity of my neighbor begins to blur and is replaced by his politically-demonized ‘otherness’, I’m not operating in the light of Christ. This isn’t the ministry of reconciliation - it’s the department of cancel culture.
For centuries, Christian mystics (and now Christian influencers) have been begging people to slow down. Sabbath is a commandment, not a recommendation, after all. But as we slow down our activities in favor of a self-care held in a spiritual perspective, maybe we should consider slowing down our discussions, too. Maybe instead of taking on all the talking points, we could just share one. And upon the response, asking more questions instead of bouncing to the next accusation or note of contention. Maybe we could take the time to define our terms. It might feel pedantic, but it’ll be important.
As we describe the things we don’t believe in, maybe we’ll find that our neighbor doesn’t believe in them either.
And then we can meet up for a pint.