When I got to the office earlier this week, after several days away because of being really, really sick, I found a message on my voice mail.
It was someone taking me to task for having taken Robert Jeffress to task for calling the Mormons a cult and for having taken the Roman Catholic church to task for permitting child molesters and those who protect child molesters to continue to hold sacramental authority over others.
Yes, I did call Jeffress a cult leader. Why? Keep in mind that the word “cult” is not necessarily a pejorative word (although that is apparently how Jeffress meant it when he referred to Romney and his Mormon heritage). The word defines any group with a set of distinctive religious views and a clear demarcation between who is in and who is out.
Using that definition, I myself am a cult leader. All I am asking Jeffress to do is recognize that he is no different from those he appears to defame and condemn.
My phone caller also read to me parts of 1 Timothy 2 and 3. He reminded me that as a woman, I should not have authority over a man and that I could not possibly be the husband of one wife (no joke!), not to mention the disgrace of my divorce, that mortal sin for which there is no forgiveness in the sight of many.
Double condemnation is at play here for me. His suggestion: I had best just step down from my role as pastoral leader. I do not believe he was being unkind. Just an honest assessment of his beliefs.
I listened carefully to the message and thought, “Just a few years ago, I said and did exactly the same thing as did this caller.” I took passages from the Bible, which I love and have devoted my life to study, and used them to correct others who were not, in my earnest opinion, honoring the Scriptures properly. I made it my job to tell others to change their ways–and probably often not nearly so kindly as this caller.
I am not there now.  I am not better than those who are there, nor am I worse. I’m just in a  different place. I think what we believe matters. I am still orthodox in my core affirmations of faith. But I am still in a very different place theologically than I was 15 to 20 years ago. I now disagree with many of my own former stances.
And that is the problem. We don’t handle differences very well. We appear to have some indelibly  ingrained need for others to agree with us, to look and act as we do, and to believe as we do. When they don’t, we demonize them.
Most, if not all, have the tendency to divide the world into sinners and saints. The saints think as we do, the sinners don’t. We do it politically, socially, physically, racially, educationally, sartorially (i.e, correct or trendy clothing), recreationally, academically, sportily (I think I just made that word up!), and most especially religiously. People have sent so many other people to eternal damnation over these differences that is a wonder that hell might yet have more room for one more.
I’ve been there, done that. . . and even knowing this, still have to fight against my predilection to do exactly what I dislike in others. That, by the way, is the essence of hypocrisy–to do to others precisely what I hate being done to me.
How easily we speak for God and make decisions concerning eternal life, death, bliss or damnation! Who is adequately without sin to hold that power? It is not I. Are you that free from sin? Do you have the authority to cast that stone? Â Just something to think about.
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