The article this week is from a sermon preached by a congregant who wishes to remain anonymous.
James Cone teaches at Yale and recently published a book, The Cross and the Lynching Tree. It is a disturbing book. Cone tells the story of how, over a 60-year period (1880-1940), more than 5,000 African American persons were lynched (hung), usually from a tree. Crowds gathered to watch. These lynchings did not take place in some third world country but here in the United States.
Cone tells how meaningful the story of Jesus’ dying on the cross became to the African American community during this period. He speaks of the comfort which the cross brought to those living in the ever-present fear of lynching.
After speaking of the comfort brought by the cross, Cone says this, “… (B)ut it did not remove their need to wrestle with God about the deeply felt contradictions that (lynching) created for faith.”
Like so many of us in the LGBT community, I was raised in a strong faith community (Christian). But I wrestle with the contradictions found in issues of faith. Contradictions between how I think God should work and the realities of how God seems to work in life’s everyday events.
I was taught that “prayer changes things.” That is, for people who “live right.” That meant reading my Bible, not cussing, attending church, obeying my parents, etc. If I did all the right things God would hear and answer my prayers. When they weren’t answered, then it must be that there was something I should be doing which I wasn’t, or something I wasn’t doing, which I should be.
Slowly, I am coming to understand that seeing God working in this way is immature and childish. In Cone’s words there remains a “wrestling with God” – a wrestling “about the deeply held contradictions” – contradictions which illness, lack of employment, loneliness, depression, misunderstandings, etc create for faith. How can an all-powerful and all-loving God allow these things to happen?
There is an incident in Matthew’s gospel which helps me. In Matthew (11:1-11) John the Baptist is in prison. King Herod has placed him there. Jesus himself says of John, “There is no one greater than John the Baptist” (verse 11). And yet here is John in prison, facing execution.
One day a group of John’s friends visit him. They come with “good news.” Nearby, Jesus is performing miracles – lots of miracles.
A great wrestling takes place deep inside John’s inner self. A contradiction. A questioning. He listens to the reports – the “good news” – of how many are receiving their miracle. And yet, here he is in prison facing an executioner’s death.
I do not like this story’s ending. John was beheaded. Faith should not work that way. People should not face lynching. People should not struggle without work. And when we do there is a wrestling – a “need to wrestle with God about the deeply felt contradictions” of faith.
Slowly, I am coming to see the futility of this wrestling. But then, how to be a person of authentic faith?
The psalmist gives us a clue. Here is how the psalmist puts it, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, You are with me.” (Psalm 23:4)
I hear the psalmist inviting a move from “Why not me” to a recognition that “You (God) are with me.” When understanding is impossible, still “You are with me.” This I believe and in this I can rest.
Rev. Dan Koeshall is the Senior Pastor at The Metropolitan Community Church (The Met) in San Diego, California, themetchurch.org.
