First Church of the Culture Wars

I warn't my cup of tea.

I get it. I understand. I'm a believer with sturdy evangelical roots. I know why people yell and scream and cry and all of that, but I think they're wrong. I don't believe the Christian faith is under siege or believers are persecuted or shunned or made fun of because of their faith. Myriad examples of the opposite appear every day of the week.

Does Franklin Graham get blasted? Sure. And Dobson and Falwell and that mega-church Trumper from Dallas whose church sings hymns to the Donald in a sport coat of the red-white-and blue? Do they catch flack? Yessiree. Do they get burned? You bet--as well they should. 

It was Sunday morning and I was far from home, but I knew about a church down the block because I'd spoken there maybe a decade before. I remembered it fondly, so I decided to go--and did. I didn't know anyone really. I just thought--well, I'd been there before.

The preacher loved Franklin Graham. The sermon was terrifying--how we as Christians are under siege, how we're ever more and more persecuted in this country for our beliefs, how it's going to get worse--think Sodom--and how the homosexual agenda is a violent storm already upon us. How that's going to make us suffer. How our faith will surely be tested. How the coming storm will shake America, force us to stand up for Jesus--how much carnage is on the way, if not next week, soon and very soon. 

It was a blitzkrieg of Bible texts flattened up against each other and thrown up on the screen to warn us to prepare for a life-threatening fight for the right. You know those fine men who wouldn't make cakes for the gays?--that's what it's going to be like, folks, for all of us who follow Jesus. Figure on oppression, suffering, hate. All of that is upon us. Will you dare to be a Daniel. Are you mighty in the word? Will you suffer for the Lord?

Let's pray. 

That kind of sermon. 

Didn't like it. The truth is, I hated it. It was a friendly church--people came up, introduced themselves, wanted to know me. That was all sweet, a nice bunch of people. But by the time I drove away, that almost endless sermon made me kick the dust off my feet. 

Had a couple hours to go before meeting some folks early that afternoon. Left town, got on the entrance ramp to the freeway, drove no more than a mile down the road and saw a highway billboard just like this:

My first thought--very first--was that the dreadnought preacher was tailing me, his endless woes and woes still reverberating in my mind, just more of the apocalypse. All that intolerance was getting to me. Imagine losing your job because you love Jesus! It's coming, folks. Don't bake cakes for gays.

And then it hit me that the line didn't belong to Pastor FireandBrimstone; in all likelihood it was the very voice of the enemy. Right there in front of me was "the gay agenda": Imagine being fired for who you love." That's what I was supposed to hate.

There's the sadness, Pastor. There's the pain, and there's the story. 

Where's the gospel?