August 1, 2004
By Trevor Ralston

The scripture for today is Colossians 3, 1 through 17. I personally like the last part of that, verses 12-17, were it deals with reconciliation with each other. I especially like verse 16:

Colossians 3

¹⁶Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.

Speaking of songs, here’s one:

“They’re not normal like us; They’re nothin’ like none of our friends;

I know we may not be perfect, but thank god we’re nothin’ like them!”

That’s the chorus to a song that I picked up from a couple of theologians that usually play at Winfield each year. They call themselves ‘Small Potatoes’, and the song is a fun little spoof about how we deal with our opinions about people that we disagree with or think are strange or different. They sing a verse, and then everybody joins in on the chorus. Lotta fun.

But there may be more truth than spoof to the song…

That’s what I want to talk about today: diversity. Why? Because I think it is an important piece of who we are as Christians, and how it can impact our congregation, both with respect to how we relate to each other, as well as how well we connect with those outside our congregation.

Personally, I know that it has a lot to do with what I believe, and how I behave. (Which are often two different things, but I’ll get into that in a minute.)

What I want to do is just share some of the experiences and discoveries that I’ve personally had about diversity. And, as with all the teachings that we have here, I just ask that you listen to what I’m offering, and if something gets your attention, just try it on.

If it’s a fit for you, great; if not, that’s OK, too. And if you want to talk about any of this offline, I’m sure you all know I never miss an opportunity to have a conversation.

Two of our value statements that refer to diversity:

We value diversity of the congregation and unity of purpose.

We welcome everyone who seeks to follow God and shares our purpose.

I believe that one of the primary – and most immediate – reasons that our congregation specifically mentions diversity is because of our commitment to be a “welcoming congregation.”

Now, to me, the phrase “welcoming congregation” is currently code for inviting, accepting, and loving gay folk into our flock the same way we graciously embrace left-handed or bald-headed people into our midst. And I think that is a critical piece: it is a way for us to live into God’s call to love one another, with ‘compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience.’

But I’ve come to believe that God isn’t all that concerned about sexual orientation, per se; I think She’s a lot more concerned with how we deal with any so-called differences we think we see in each other, rather than the differences themselves. And when I say “each other,” I mean the other 6+ billion people on the planet.

There are two challenges come up for me, personally, around diversity: The first is how I deal with differences with people who are a part of my life; the second is how I deal with differences with people who are not a part of my life.

First challenge: dealing with differences with people I know. These are usually folks that simply have yet been granted the insight, vision and wisdom that has already come to me, and for some reason do not readily accept their blindness.

The apostle Paul had some good advice for this situation: “Bear with one another and if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

And we have some value statements that echo that advice:

We value our responsibility to love all as God loves us.

We commit to working out our differences in a loving, respectful manner.

Great advice, and fine values. But how do I really deal with differences? Usually, when I find that I have an issue or really disagree with someone I know well, my first reaction is to get scared. Scared they won’t like me anymore. They won’t be my friend. They’ll abandon me. Put me on an ice floe, push me away, and not even wave bye-bye…

An ongoing dilemma for me is that while I want to be independent, and free from any sort of interference or authority from others, I also want to be included – in everything. I want to be asked to every function, even if I can’t come. I want to be well-thought of; I want to be admired and respected. But mostly, the real bottom line is: I want to be included. For me, one of the best definitions of hell is isolation. As far as I’m concerned, shunning is a far greater punishment than execution.

So if I get scared that I’m gonna damage a relationship, then usually I find ways to soften or slur my position. And that’s when I slide into the pit of hypocrisy. See, I tend to live my life by two sets of commitments. Spoken ones and unspoken ones.

A good example of spoken commitments are some of the value statements I mentioned earlier. They are the ones I am willing to stand up and pledge allegiance to; they are the kind of statements I wouldn’t mind having on my tombstone.

And then there are my unspoken commitments, which are generally more consistent with my daily behaviors and decisions. I won’t spend a lot of time going into detail, but a brief version of my unspoken commitments might go something like this:

“I’m committed to being safe, comfortable and good-looking.” (Now, by good-looking, I don’t mean handsome; prayer can only go so far; rather, I mean that I am committed to always looking good, or at a minimum, not looking bad.) So you can see where this might get in the way of my speaking the truth in love…

Of course, another direction I sometimes take when dealing with differences is to get indignant, and self-righteous, and defensive. I make the other person into the bad guy, and I do everything I can to strengthen my position and weaken theirs. I forgot to mention one other unspoken commitment: I’m also committed to being right at all costs. (If I have to lose a friendship, I at least want to have the satisfaction of knowing they were wrong…)

But you know what? The more I take the chance to look at those unspoken commitments (or even share them with some folks who are committed to hearing my confessions and being with me in them), then it is easy to see how self-serving and short-sighted they are, and then I have the energy – and courage – to operate more within my spoken commitments to my church and community.

And when I do that, when I seriously listen and empathize with others, my need to gain or defend a position starts to diminish. And often, as I find ways to understand and appreciate what someone else is saying, it is easier for me to find common ground, and ways to more effectively express my concern or viewpoint. The perceived “differences” just drift away. And usually, the relationships are deepened. And nobody loses – anything, or anybody.

I said earlier that the second challenge for me regarding diversity was how I deal, or don’t deal, with people who are not a part of my life, and who I consider to be “not like me.”

Let me give you a couple of examples of what I’m talking about. You know the guys (and gals) that might hang around libraries, or bridge ramps, or busy intersections, with their stories and their signs? I don’t know about you, but I confess I get uncomfortable. And not from fear that they will hurt me, or attack me, but that they will somehow infect me.

I can’t help but think that the only reason I’m not panhandling right alongside them is that I have just been plain lucky. And who is to say that my luck will hold? So I get scared, and I try to ignore them, like some sort of leper, and then I say to myself (or whisper), “Thank God I’m not like them.” Remember my unspoken commitments to be safe and comfortable? Here they are again…

But on the few occasions when I have stopped, and taken the chance to acknowledge them, and to look into their eyes, I see nothing more than what I see each morning when I shave: some confusion, as well as some fear and anxiety; but also: determination and resolve. And when I do stop, and share my time (giving $ is easy; giving time is the real gift), then I start getting comfortable, and I even feel connected in a powerful and profound way. I get in touch with the God of love, and I receive the love of God.

I said I had a couple of examples. You know the editorials where people are offering their ringing political or theological endorsements for the party or position of their choice, and its not the party or position of my choice? That’s when my unspoken commitment to be right is manifested in terms of indignation and self-righteousness. That’s when I wax eloquent about whose side God is really on! I make them the enemy, then I judge them, and I sentence them, and I condemn them. And then I thank God I don’t act like them.

Well,… the fact is, that I am, fundamentally, just like “them,” and if I take the time to seriously consider that the things I don’t like seeing in others are often the very things I tend to overlook in myself, then that gives me a different perspective. So, whether I’m talking about homeless folk or the so-called “rich and opinionated,” what really keeps me from accepting, or respecting – or even loving and embracing – others who “aren’t like me” is simply my fear or my pride. The socio-economic status, or the intellectual positioning, these are not truly differences; they are handy excuses to justify my behaving as if we were different.

I said earlier that diversity has a lot to do with how we behave as Christians. A couple of weeks ago, when Jack talked about the good Samaritan, he reminded us again of the great commandments. The first one says to love God with everything you’ve got, and the second one says to love your neighbor as yourself.

For me, somehow the first one seems easier to deal with. That’s where I get to take a stand with all my spoken commitments: my values, my standards, my big-time, nicely embossed statements about how I will serve God and never waver, etc.

But the second one, where I have to put up with my neighbor’s sloppy yard, or her loud dog, or his bad breath, that’s where I tend to live out my unspoken commitments. (You remember, the ones about being comfy and right, and all that…) And that’s when I start singing the chorus to that song,

“They’re not normal like us; They’re nothin’ like none of our friends;

I know we may not be perfect, but thank god we’re nothin’ like them!”

In other words, the thing that keeps me from loving my neighbors is the way I keep making up how different they are from me. That’s what I call the dark side of diversity. But when I get to know them, if I really get to know them, they don’t just become my friends; they become my stories. They become the craziest, wildest, bravest, smartest, most creative, unforgettable characters you’d ever want to meet. And I will often go to great lengths to make sure you do meet them! And why do I love them? Because they are so different!

I know God calls us to love one another, but it seems pretty clear to me that we can’t do that from a distance. I think that’s why God needed to come to us as Jesus. And what I see in Jesus’ life is that we can’t love one another unless we can be with one another.

But if we can be with each other, really be with each other (not just be around, but really BE with each other), then I believe we can see how much alike we are, and how much we can appreciate our differences.

There’s a song I do from time to time by John McCutcheon (he’s one of the high priests at Winfield Theological Campground) that tells the story of how British and German soldiers came together to celebrate Christmas. A lot of people know the story by now, but what isn’t known is how damn close this event came to ruining WWI. When commanders on both sides heard about the situation, they took some drastic and deadly action to stop it immediately. Because they knew that once these fellows got to know each other, and they found out that “on each of the rifle they’re the same,” that they’d just fire into the air.

The beasts and demons they’d been sent to kill would have disappeared. I don’t believe that familiarity breeds contempt. I think that distance, and fears, and lies breed contempt. I believe that familiarity breeds compassion.

Now would probably be a good time to talk about the E-word. Besides being called to love one another, as Christians, we are also “commissioned” to spread the good news of God’s love and mercy. I believe that, and I think it is a good thing to do that. Because I personally believe that God’s love is transforming me. Still. And God knows, there’s still miles to go! See, I think evangelism has at least as much to do with changing me as it does with changing anybody else.

Remember I said that God may not really be all that concerned about our sexual orientation? Well, I don’t think God keeps score the way we do, either. What I mean by that is that evangelism, to me, means showing God’s love, sharing God’s love, and being God’s love. What I don’t mean by evangelism is arguing about scripture, or trying to prove my spiritual choices are better than yours, and that you’re a poor, lost fool if you can’t see that.

I heard an interview the other day, where a guy was talking about different styles of influence. I liked what he said. He said that Jesus, as well as Gandhi, and King, and Mother Teresa, and other really effective leaders were willing to simply stand in the truth, as they saw it, and to see who else showed up. He said that when you start measuring success by how many people you can enlist, that’s when you stop modeling the truth and start trying to market it.

See, Jesus didn’t threaten people, and he didn’t promise them what they wanted to hear. He just told stories. That’s what I think I’m supposed to do. Tell my stories. And whoever shows up, they’ll have their stories. And our stories will be the same, only different. That same, only different description? Maybe that’s another example of the Kingdom side of diversity.

So, what have I learned from this inquiry? Well, let me give you some summary points, and, as I said earlier, I just encourage you to try them on; see if they might fit for you, too.

First, we are really not all that different! In fact, diversity may just be a figment of our imagination. We may have just made it up, kinda like the way we invented time, in order to cope with the apparent chaos and disorder of life…

Secondly, none of us are all that normal. We’re all pretty weird, in one way or another. But if we see each others’ differences as gifts, rather than abnormalities, we have got some great stuff to bring to the party: “If we clothe ourselves in love, we will be bound together in perfect harmony.”

Thirdly, our fears and our prejudices are the primary barriers that keep us from authentically and effectively sharing God’s love and mercy; that keep us from celebrating our differences and distinctions with each other.

Finally, I am absolutely convinced that we need each other. We all need each other. And we need diversity. Why? Because as we come together, we need diversity to bring texture, harmony, personality, and even meaning to our lives.

Now, as an affirmation of our commitment to diversity, I’d like to ask everyone to stand, and join me in this responsive reading:

People of God, look about and see the faces of those we know and love –

Neighbors and friends, sisters and brothers –

A community of kindred hearts.

People of God, look about and see the faces of those we hardly know –

Strangers, sojourners, forgotten friends,

The ones who need an outstretched hand.

People of God, look about and see all the images of God assembled here –  

In me, in you, in each of us,

God’s spirit shines for all to see.

Amen…