Christians, I think we’ve been exposed this week.
I think the world has seen us clearly and we’ve seen ourselves—and it isn’t very pretty.
We’ve all witnessed that our faith tradition has become so small and so trivial and so terribly malnourished that it can now fit into a little red cup.
It’s all right there in the palms of our hands, in full view of the watching world.
This Red Cup Christianity…
… thrives on the fight. It needs an enemy to exist, a battle to feel vital, a cause to rail against to give it weight and meaning and urgency.
… is born in privilege. It expects to be catered to and to control in all situations, not realizing that this was never promised nor necessary nor normal.
… defaults to feeling persecuted. It perceives everything less than completely conforming to it as an assault and attack and injustice.
… rushes to eliminate and shun. Its response to any adversity or dissension is to destroy it or wall it away. It cannot peacefully coexist with difference or diversity.
… shouts much and listens little. Another perspective isn’t ever really welcome, and to avoid hearing a voice other than its own, it merely becomes louder and more vicious.
… brokers in fear. The sky is perpetually falling and it screams as much from the rooftops, fully believing that others can be frightened into faith.
… trades love for power. Its agenda is rarely to encourage or show compassion or model humility, but rather to demonstrate a bitter, showy strength that feeds its fragile ego.
The shame of all of this is that Jesus isn’t small enough to fit into the little red cup and many of us know that.
He is massive and expectation-defying and confounding in his love for those who see themselves as unloveable.
He is uncontainable and ineffable and unscalable and universe-breathing.
He is radically, relentlessly, counterintuitively forgiving.
He is scandalous in the infinitely wide table of his hospitality.
He is peacemaker, servant, healer, sacrificial lover.
The place he calls his people to is low and small and narrow; rejecting fanfare and accolades and position, welcoming burdens and wounds and tears.
His is a cause far too beautiful and good and big to fit into the tiny battles we insist on waging here in his name.
As frustrating as this week has been for many of us who claim Christianity, it’s also been revelatory and freeing. We along with the world have watched so many labor in the frivolous, petty minutia of religion—and we’ve been able to reject it along with them.
In the days ahead there will still be far too many people practicing Red Cup Christianity in the world, but a good many of us will not be among them.
May the cup of your goodness and mercy runneth over.
Cheers.
