Recently I listened to an episode of the Russell Moore Show that featured singer/song writer Jon Guerra (listen here). A member of the congregation I serve shared it with me because it resonated with her and she thought it might have the same effect on me. She wasn’t wrong. I can commiserate with much of what Guerra and Moore spoke about, especially the fatigue of cultural wars and misunderstandings of the gospel and our place in the broader society. What struck me most, though, was a line at the end spoken by Moore where, in light of the broader conversation, he simply said we need to ask ourselves the tough questions. 

What I appreciated in that line is where Moore points the questions, not to others, to ourselves. That is far more difficult to do than to admire. He’s right to do so, though, because it is far too easy, and currently way too common, to ask the tough questions of others. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask them but perhaps we should start with ourselves before looking at others.

Converging with that podcast this week a friend and fellow pastor I know, Andy Jones, posted something in reply to Sec. Kennedy’s comments about people who have been diagnosed with Autism. Andy wrote: 

Secretary Kennedy’s comments about autism are incorrect, misleading, and dangerous. He called autism an epidemic. This is wrong for many reasons. 

1. Epidemics describe diseases. Autism is not a disease. 

2. Epidemics describe a disease that is extremely contagious. Autism is not contagious. 

3. Epidemics describe situations that must be fixed. People with autism do not need to change. They cannot cease being autistic. Autism is not preventable or curable as it is not a disease. People with autism can be accommodated and our world can show them more hospitality than it currently does. 

Autism is being diagnosed more prevalently because of better resources, not because there are more cases. There are millions of undiagnosed or self-diagnosed adults who could have greatly benefited from being diagnosed as children. But we did not have the resources then that we do now. 

Secretary Kennedy’s comments have unnecessarily created fear and hurt. The idea of creating a registry for people with autism is beyond inappropriate. Autism is not something to be afraid of. It is not an epidemic. 

If you have questions about this, or do not understand why this is so dangerous, please reach out to me.

 

Andy was right to call it out. He was right to speak in that moment. I shared the post because I wanted to publicly signal agreement and provide support. And then, almost immediately as I did, I started to wonder about who would like and comment on my share or Andy’s original post. I started to think about why I really shared it, what I was after. In short, Andy’s post gave me a chance to ask myself the questions that make me feel less than comfortable. Why? Because I know a part of me only writes and shares so that I can be seen and heard. Sometimes, this really is all about me and my ego—and that’s the problem, me.

I have spent the better part of a few months thinking about who I am, the gifts I believe I have, the place I have been called to serve, and the family I am entrusted to love. I have been thinking about the work I’ve done in parish and academic settings, earning multiple graduate degrees, including a terminal degree in my field, and being a sole pastor for ten years. I have, over the last nearly three years, lost and kept off a massive amount of weight. I have thought about all of these things and more and have come to realize that the tough questions need to begin with me because some of that work, some of that time, was never about those people I don’t see in the mirror. Some of what I have spent my time doing was spent because I was trying to feel qualified, trying to feel validated, trying to feel as though I deserve something. Asking the tough question of me shows me just how self-centered I can be. 

This is the problem, not others, but me. It isn’t that he or she have problematic opinions, it is that I cannot see beyond my own bellybutton more than half the time. It isn’t simply that one public figure utters opinions that foment fear, it is that I get sucked into it, that I see it as my moment to step up and be the voice, be the savior, who will rally the troops, who will right the wrong, not because others need it, but because the accolades and support feel good. Asking the tough questions of myself exposes this reality to me, and in writing it out for others to see, I am not trying to get more of that, I’m trying to show you who I really am, not just the me I want you to see on social media posts and on Sunday mornings.

Still, Sunday mornings offer us something, at least where I serve, that also forces the tough questions to be asked, not of others, but of myself. I, a poor miserable sinner. I confess that I am by nature sinful and unclean. If I say I have no sin, I’m not deceiving anyone but myself. Asking the tough questions is never comfortable but, I would suggest, it is important. I can sympathize with those who are afraid because I know what it is to fear rejection, to fear loss, to fear irrelevancy. I know what it is to want to call others out, not just because they are wrong, but because then I can show the world how right I am. 

The reality of these past couple of weeks in the church year that focus in on Christ’s death and resurection have crystallized for me once again how different He is, not was, is, He is risen after all. He wasn’t some virtue signalling teacher. He wasn’t some culture warrior. He is the one who knew all the answers to the tough questions I ask myself and looked at me and said, he’s still worth it. He is the one who looked at all those I don’t like, who I don’t think ask themselves any questions or have any doubts and act in ways I’d never affirm and says the same thing, they are worth it too. He is someone who never sees his own bellybutton because he is too busy looking into the eyes of the world he loves, especially when it doesn’t love him or others, and gives himself simply because the others need it. 

Part of the reason why Andy is so right to call it out is because the fear has no place, especially when the tomb is empty. More than that, no human being worth is determined by the way their brain works, by the words they speak, or the things they are able to contribute to society. Nor is their worth determined by what they take from others, by the harm they cause, by the fear they foment. While I will grant that society cannot function, nor can justice be carried out, without people being held accountable and without means of understanding who people are and what they are or are not capable of doing, that does not mean they are worth inherently more or less. Maybe to us, but not to God, not to the one who is risen, whose tomb stands empty. 

And perhaps, rather than ask why others cannot see it in others I need to ask myself the tough questions first, why don’t I see it in this particular person who is causing me grief? Why don’t I see it in him or her, the person in my life I’m actually called to be a neighbor to? Oh, I know why, and the problem isn’t them.