by Sarah Dull
Last month, along with five other members of St. John’s, I attended a training designed to help us push back against the anti-gospel messages being advanced by White Christian Nationalists.
During the introductions they asked us to share what our personal stakes are in this fight. Everyone in the room could have listed lots of things happening in our country right now that justified their attendance: the rounding up of immigrants, the cuts to social services, stripping of minorities’ rights and protections, etc. But that wasn’t what the facilitator asked. Instead, they wanted us to reflect deeply on where we are feeling pain, grief, and fear in our own personal lives and the lives of the people closest to us. This exercise helped me tap into a whole lot of fire I didn’t even realize I was holding.
The most obvious fire I found burning savagely in my soul was the gross violation Christian Nationalism does to my faith, to the Jesus I love, and the gospels I follow. The Christ in scripture spent their time breaking down ethnic and social hierarchies, not creating them; Christ healed the sick and fed the hungry instead of discarding them; Christ stood with the oppressed and challenged authoritarianism rather than use their power for self promotion.
The vitriolic hate that is often spewed by Christian Nationalists in the name of my loving God makes me sick to my stomach. I hate it when I share with people who do not know me that I work for a church and they, sometimes literally, take a step back and give me that anxious look, wondering if I am one of those Christians. I immediately have to reassure them that I follow Jesus’ Way of Love, not enmity. It saddens me that the mention of church or Christianity causes that angst instead of the reassurance it brings me. Sometimes people express surprise that not all Christians are bigoted xenophobes. While I enjoy enlightening those people on the true gospel messages of inclusive love, it breaks my heart to think about all the people who will never know the love of Jesus that has sustained me through all the ups and downs of life, just because of a selfish few.
As I continued to discern, I became aware of more fires searing my heart. I have three daughters in various stages of finishing high school and starting college; young women starting to build lives in a post Roe v Wade world where patriarchalism is on the rise again. Will their bodies be their own? Will they have the same opportunities that I’ve had? Or will they find themselves denied full equal rights and forced into stereotypical female roles? These were not the kind of concerns I expected to have raising daughters in a modern western country.
I can’t help but think of my grandmother who was raped and impregnated at 15, blamed and shunned by her family, and forced to marry her abuser only to be abandoned with a newborn and threatened with the workhouse. Fortunately, with support from others in her village, my grandmother built a life for herself and my uncle, ran a small business, and fought for women’s rights. Was all that she went through for nothing? How do I carry on her legacy and make sure my daughters have the future that my grandmother dreamed of for her female descendants?
Additionally, my son is pansexual. In a Christian Nationalist society he will be vilified and excluded; labeled as a threat to “family values.” Christian Nationalists are trying to restrict his rights and roll back non-discrimination policies that protect him. Will he be allowed to love and build a family with who he chooses? Will he even be safe from violence when he leaves the house?
Most surprisingly was the fire I found smoldering in the pit of my stomach. I am an immigrant, a national of another country. As white, Christian, and a native English speaker, I have been sheltered from facing this head-on but I know Christian Nationalists’ malicious rhetoric about immigrants also refers to me. I am the unwelcome stranger; the threat to American culture; the violent criminal. If I “step out of line” will I be afforded due process or will I be immediately deported and ripped from my family and the life I have spent more than two decades building in this country I have come to call home? Does my green card, which took so much effort to earn, and that states I am a permanent resident, actually mean anything?
Like I said, I found a whole lot of fire burning within me! And I’m glad I did, because that fire is now fueling my determination to find ways to push back against the growing White Christian Nationalism that is poisoning our country, perverting my faith, threatening my family, and destroying our democracy. I encourage you to similarly consider your personal stakes in the fight against Christian Nationalism and discern the fires burning inside of you. The threats may be closer to home than you realize.
The six of us who attended the training are planning on sharing what we learned with this beloved community in the fall. Over the 14 years I have been a part of St. John’s, this faith family has always risen to the occasion; caring deeply for each other and, with God’s help, finding ways when there were no ways. It will mean more than I will ever be able to express if you will come together again and help us find ways that we can reclaim true Christianity and shine our God’s love out loud for those that need a light in these dark times.