Lay Down Your Shield

I talked a little bit last time about my fear of the church - how, like the child who learned from his burns not to touch the flame, I will probably always be afraid of it.  The wounds heal, but we remember these things.  Which is supposed to be a good thing.  Fear is what you learn once something has hurt you, and which you remember so that you can prevent it from hurting you again.

Four days ago, the other riders and I arrived in Baltimore to finish our preparations for the imminent journey.  We came together with joy - kissing and hugging one another as long lost friends reunited at last, sharing stories of our (actually brief) time apart.  It was a lovely day as we one by one shuttled into our first hotel, purposeful determination and hope set square in our eyes.

But there were also actual preparations to make, phone calls and emails and hotel reservations and the like, and as part of that, we have been having some Very Important Conversations about things like the Bible, and justice, and racial equality, which have been awfully intense and emotional.

Yet here is where I began to be afraid: In the middle of all of that, we talked about what it really looks like to have "meaningful dialogue" with someone you consider your adversary.  Meaningful dialogue is something a lot of people talk about and few people do, because it sounds great but involves being open to what the other person needs and possibly letting go of something you need.

Or put another way: usually when we engage with our adversaries, we equip ourselves for war.  We bring our swords and shields, to attack them and protect ourselves.  Our words are our weapons, with which we hope to win the day.  Our defense is how we receive and deflect their words.  The sword is fueled by anger and righteousness.  The shield, by fear.

And that's good, right?  Defense is important, after all.  When strangers rolled down their windows and shouted "Faggot!" as they threw beer bottles from their moving vehicles, I needed all the defense I could get.  Not to mention when  the same gesture in so many words came from pastors in their pulpits and in their prayers.

But here's the thing: meaningful dialogue isn't just about putting away the sword.  I mean, you certainly have to do that of course, we've all seen how counterproductive bringing anger and righteousness is to peace negotiations, but there's more.  You have to lay down your shield too.  Because that shield means you're still expecting war, and what kind of a thing is that to expect from someone you love?  So you have to put it down.

You have to let go of your fear.

I don't know how to do this.  I can walk onto a Christian campus and accept their insults, their prooftexts, even their pity for my "struggle," so long as my heart is guarded and my fear is strong.  I need that fear to protect my precious sense of self.  Despite everything, I now know that I am worth protecting.  The entire me.  The real me.  All of me, every last bit, and I will never again let anyone tell me otherwise.

So if I cannot make an offering of myself, I guess that all I have left to put on the table is my hope that things can be better.

Replace fear with hope.

Hmm.  Well, I don't know if I can do that.  I'm pretty sure I won't be very good at it, actually, because like I said that shield is really important to me.  But it's also really heavy, and so I will try, and if I fail then I will try again, and again, and again.

I hope they will keep trying too.