Good Christians, Bad Christians

Believers represent Jesus poorly when we don’t keep Him at the center of our lives.

Sometimes it seems as if I’m wearing a T-shirt that says, “Tell me your complaints about the church.” My friend Sally works for a nonprofit that seeks justice for prison inmates who were wrongfully convicted. When the cases come up for a retrial, the most dreaded, unfair judge is a man she says is “a conservative Christian.” She asks me, “Why are there so many bad Christians?”

“Why are there so many bad Christians?”

The guy who managed the neighborhood pizza place near my former home on Long Island liked to show me his “wall of shame”—a bulletin board in the kitchen filled with newspaper clippings about pastors doing nasty things. My friend Jenny tells me, “Look, we can be friends as long as you don’t try to convert me. I hate organized religion, especially anything related to a church.” Then on a recent flight, I was having a pleasant conversation with a young marketing executive until I briefly told her that I’m a pastor. There was a long silence followed by, “So can I tell you what bugs me about the church?”  

These four people are convinced Christians are mostly bad news for the world. The basic complaint is straightforward: Christians don’t act like Christ. That charge often comes pre-loaded with a litany of specific accusations. Christians don’t care about the poor or the marginalized. Christians are hateful, smug, and self-righteous. The litany often gets historical too. The church led the Crusades, suppressed scientific inquiry, endorsed chattel slavery, supported colonizing native people groups, and has consistently been on the wrong side of history.

What do I say to my friends who hold such raw and zealous anti-church sentiments? Is the church filled with a lot of “bad Christians”? My bare-bones response goes something like this: “Yes, but …” I start by agreeing with them. I say, “You’re right. There are and have been far too many Christians who don’t act like Jesus.” I point to Paul’s call for Christians to exude “a fragrance of Christ” (2 Corinthians 2:15). Sadly, sometimes we just reek with prejudice, apathy, injustice, or even cruelty. I resonate with the brilliant 19th-century orator and abolitionist (and follower of Christ) Frederick Douglass, who once lamented, “Between the Christianity of this land and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference.”

 

I also remind my church-averse friends that someone else agrees with their quest to expose and vanquish hypocrisy: Jesus. He anticipated and disavowed alleged followers who don’t actually follow His life and teaching. (See Matt. 7:15-27.) Then He listed and excoriated (from the Latin meaning “to strip off the hide”) specific instances of religious hypocrisy. (See almost the entire long chapter of Matt. 23.) Does the church poison everything? Well, no, but when it does, Jesus is likely to turn over tables.

So, with “a broken and a contrite heart” (Psalm 51:17), we should renounce our defensiveness and simply say, “Yes, you’re right. The church has not acted like Jesus—sometimes in grievous ways. Yes, there are ‘bad Christians.’ It breaks my heart, but more importantly, it breaks the heart of my Lord and Savior.”

When I mentioned all of this to my friend Sally, she said, “Okay, that helps, but I want to know about that ‘But …’ as well. What’s the “Yes, but … ?” In light of growing hostility towards not only bad Christians but also basic Christian doctrine, it’s crucial to articulate how and when the church, the embodied and communal presence of Jesus on earth, has also gotten His message right—even beautifully so.

Does the church poison everything? Well, no, but when it does, Jesus is likely to turn over tables.

Sometimes we need a secular ally to help us see the church’s good side. In 2011, the New York Times writer and self-proclaimed skeptic Nicholas Kristof noted that gospel-believing Christians have “been pilloried among progressives as reactionary, myopic, anti-intellectual and, if anything, immoral.” Kristoff calls this “reverse intolerance” or even “reverse bigotry.” After reporting on poverty, disease, and oppression for decades, Kristof came to a surprising conclusion: “Go to the front lines, at home or abroad, in the battles against hunger, malaria, prison rape, obstetric fistula, human trafficking or genocide, and some of bravest people you meet are evangelical Christians (or conservative Catholics, similar in many ways) who truly live their faith .… I stand in awe of those I’ve seen risking their lives in this way—and it sickens me to see that faith mocked at New York cocktail parties.”

Four years later in another editorial, Kristof echoed his distaste for what he called “liberal caricature of evangelicals.” This time he focused on one follower of Christ—a white-haired medical missionary named Dr. Stephen Foster. This surgeon raised his family in rural Angola and for nearly four decades cared for the poor there—the country with the highest child mortality rate in the world. Again, Kristof extolled the work of Christians around the globe and in the United States.

When I share Kristof’s thoughts with friends like Sally or Vinny or Jenny, I say, “I can show you hundreds of ‘Dr. Fosters.’” I’m not boasting or exaggerating. I’m referring to people and places and stories I know personally. I could start by describing my neighborhood on the east side of downtown Aurora—Illinois’ second largest city. In the mid-’90s, Aurora was reeling from gang-related murders. In 1996 the city tallied 26—three times the national average. U.S. News & World Report claimed that the police were “moving from shooting to shooting so quickly they could hardly keep up, much less close cases.” Then, almost inexplicably, by 2012 the murder rate plummeted to zero.

The basic complaint is straightforward: Christians don’t act like Christ. But it’s crucial to articulate how and when the church has also gotten His message right.

What happened? Of course, there were multiple factors, but many people still point to an unlikely pair of catalysts for Aurora’s healing: a charismatic pastor named Dan and a Catholic priest named David. Dan and David started holding prayer vigils on the exact spot where the murders had occurred. After facing stiff opposition (nobody wanted to draw attention to bloody drive-by shootings), they persevered until people started noticing. The prayer meetings grew. Dave and Dan started proclaiming the good news of Christ, and light finally gained momentum over the darkness.

But then something else happened. During that dark season, dozens of Christians left the security of the suburbs and moved into the haunts of violence near downtown Aurora. They became public school teachers or social workers or pastors. They started nonprofits focused on former felons experiencing homelessness. They planted churches. As a result, gang members came to Christ. Now, over 20 years later, I routinely meet men—like the guy who plows my driveway in the winter for free or my neighbor who works full-time while caring for his family and studying for pastoral ministry—who share similar stories. I was a bad man. I was angry and violent. But then I met the Lord Jesus. He changed my life. Now I sing in our church’s praise team and drive my plow truck around after snowstorms and help my neighbors.

So, yes, with a broken and sympathetic heart, I’ll tell my skeptical friends, “You’re right. There are mean, hypocritical, self-righteous Christians out there. I’ve met them. I’ve been one of them. [That last sentence is crucial.] I’ve spent over 40 years trying to follow Jesus, and I’ve learned at least one lesson: It’s hard. I fail often, and it’s likely that you will too if you sincerely try to follow Him.”

I tell my skeptical friends, “You’re right. There are mean, hypocritical, self-righteous Christians out there. I’ve been one of them. But there’s much more to this story.”

However, at some point I also want to add, “But …” As in: “But there’s much more to this story.” After I walk in the world of my anti-church friends, I invite them to walk in my world. I want to say, “Come with me to the west side of Aurora, where every Tuesday night Christian volunteers spearhead a dynamic ESL class for 125 refugees and immigrants.” Or “Come with me to my church on the third Friday of every month, where our Replanted ministry provides encouragement and respite for over 50 adults who have made the heroic choice of adoption or foster care.” Or “Come with me on Sunday nights to the DuPage County Jail, where Christian volunteers cram into jail pods to lead Bible studies or parenting classes for men and women awaiting trial or sentencing.” Or “Come and meet my friends, the Bishop Benjamin and Gloria Kwashi in Jos, Nigeria—daddy and mommy to over 60 children, some formerly called orphans.” Or “Come with me to Kudjip Nazrene Hospital in the Western Highlands of Papua New Guinea. Let me introduce you to eight Western-trained doctors who have waived lucrative salaries (some for their whole career) so they can provide excellent medical care in one of the most under-resourced countries in the world.” 

History documents thousands of these “Yes, but …” Dr. Foster-like stories—followers of Jesus saving children from infanticide, freeing slaves, giving dignity to God’s intent for sexuality and singleness and marriage, pursuing scientific discovery, caring for the dying in plague-infested cities, and converting brutal warriors into peacemakers.

Here’s one example. Before his premature death in 363, the Roman emperor Julian was confident he could quash Christianity and reinstitute traditional pagan religion. He just had one roadblock—the church’s compelling moral vision and practice of caring for the poor. Julian grumbled that “the impious Galileans (followers of Jesus) support not only their own poor but ours as well.” He couldn’t beat the “impious Galileans” on their home turf of loving the poor.

The good news of Jesus offers something that the secular perspective can’t—a foundation that breaks the human cycle of hurting and oppressing others.

Shortly after Julian’s early death, a Christian Bishop named Basil founded a new kind of institution to care for the destitute. According to one contemporary historian, Basileiad, as it came to be called, became “a place of refuge that grew so large that it became its own city. It welcomed and housed immigrants, provided medical care for the sick (e.g., lepers), and trained the unskilled for jobs … [It] was the first hospital founded in the Western world. Romans had their physicians and healing centers … but only for the elite. But they had nothing like the Basileiad, which served all who had need, especially the sickest and the poorest.”

It’s important to note why these “Yes, but …” stories exist in the first place. The good news of Jesus offers something that the secular perspective can’t—an ideal, a story, an absolute and unchanging foundation that, properly lived, breaks the human cycle of hurting and oppressing others. The Jesus story as presented in the biblical narrative tells us of a God who has, first of all, created us in His image, with inherent dignity. This God also radically identifies with the poor and the oppressed. Jesus, the Word who took on flesh, was born into a poor family. At a young age, He became a political refugee. He ate with sinners. He upheld traditional views on sexuality and marriage, yet He displayed enormous tenderness towards those who fell short of those standards. After an unjust trial, He was crucified between two thieves. And now He offers to save us on the basis of His free grace, not our righteousness (in other words, smugness won’t help you). 

So, yes, Christians (like virtually every other group of human beings on the planet) have weaponized their beliefs to hurt others. But as writer Tim Keller argues, What if the absolute truth and the final story of reality is about the man who was also God, who died for his enemies, loving and forgiving them unto his last breath? Keller asks, “How could that story, if it is the center of your life, lead you to take up power and dominate others?” I would add, How could that story and that Person, if He radiates from the center of your life, not lead you to lay down your life in love for your neighbors and even those who hate you?

 

Illustration by Adam Cruft

Related Topics:  Christian Fellowship

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What happens to my notes

15 For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing;

15 Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.

16 You will know them by their fruits. Grapes are not gathered from thorn bushes nor figs from thistles, are they?

17 So every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit.

18 A good tree cannot produce bad fruit, nor can a bad tree produce good fruit.

19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

20 So then, you will know them by their fruits.

21 Not everyone who says to Me, `Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter.

22 Many will say to Me on that day, `Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?'

23 And then I will declare to them, `I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.'

24 Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock.

25 And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.

26 Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.

27 The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell--and great was its fall."

1 Then Jesus spoke to the crowds and to His disciples,

2 saying: The scribes and the Pharisees have seated themselves in the chair of Moses;

3 therefore all that they tell you, do and observe, but do not do according to their deeds; for they say things and do not do them.

4 They tie up heavy burdens and lay them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are unwilling to move them with so much as a finger.

5 But they do all their deeds to be noticed by men; for they broaden their phylacteries and lengthen the tassels of their garments.

6 They love the place of honor at banquets and the chief seats in the synagogues,

7 and respectful greetings in the market places, and being called Rabbi by men.

8 But do not be called Rabbi; for One is your Teacher, and you are all brothers.

9 Do not call anyone on earth your father; for One is your Father, He who is in heaven.

10 Do not be called leaders; for One is your Leader, that is, Christ.

11 But the greatest among you shall be your servant.

12 Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled; and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.

13 But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you shut off the kingdom of heaven from people; for you do not enter in yourselves, nor do you allow those who are entering to go in.

14 [ Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you devour widows' houses, and for a pretense you make long prayers; therefore you will receive greater condemnation.]

15 Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you travel around on sea and land to make one proselyte; and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves.

16 Woe to you, blind guides, who say, `Whoever swears by the temple, that is nothing; but whoever swears by the gold of the temple is obligated.'

17 You fools and blind men! Which is more important, the gold or the temple that sanctified the gold?

18 And, `Whoever swears by the altar, that is nothing, but whoever swears by the offering on it, he is obligated.'

19 You blind men, which is more important, the offering, or the altar that sanctifies the offering?

20 Therefore, whoever swears by the altar, swears both by the altar and by everything on it.

21 And whoever swears by the temple, swears both by the temple and by Him who dwells within it.

22 And whoever swears by heaven, swears both by the throne of God and by Him who sits upon it.

23 Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cummin, and have neglected the weightier provisions of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness; but these are the things you should have done without neglecting the others.

24 You blind guides, who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel!

25 Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside they are full of robbery and self-indulgence.

26 You blind Pharisee, first clean the inside of the cup and of the dish, so that the outside of it may become clean also.

27 Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness.

28 So you, too, outwardly appear righteous to men, but inwardly you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.

29 Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you build the tombs of the prophets and adorn the monuments of the righteous,

30 and say, `If we had been living in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partners with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.'

31 So you testify against yourselves, that you are sons of those who murdered the prophets.

32 Fill up, then, the measure of the guilt of your fathers.

33 You serpents, you brood of vipers, how will you escape the sentence of hell?

34 Therefore, behold, I am sending you prophets and wise men and scribes; some of them you will kill and crucify, and some of them you will scourge in your synagogues, and persecute from city to city,

35 so that upon you may fall the guilt of all the righteous blood shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah, the son of Berechiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar.

36 Truly I say to you, all these things will come upon this generation.

37 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.

38 Behold, your house is being left to you desolate!

39 For I say to you, from now on you will not see Me until you say, `BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!'"

17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.

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