They stood there…

They stood there, flanking each entrance into the parking lot, well-worn bibles in hand (showing how dedicated they are), and signs with large block letters poised for easy viewing. It was Sunday morning and I drove past on my way to lead worship for my own faith community. The fundamentalists were at it again!

There are a few groups in our area who claim to exist under the Christian banner, yet their behavior, in my less-than-humble opinion, is far from the teachings of Christ I read in scripture. This past Sunday, January 20th, surprisingly they were protesting our neighbors across the street, the Church of Latter Day Saints, rather than my congregation. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I parked my car and walked over.

I approached a man in his 40s with a young man who had to be in his early 20s at most.

“Hey guys,” I said. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Well,” the older one said, “we’re trying to help these folks understand where they are headed after they die.”

“And where is that?” I asked.

“Certainly not to heaven,” he responded.

“Do you even know these people?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” the older one said. “Scripture is clear.”

“These are our neighbors,” I responded. “They are good neighbors and fine people. Though I don’t share all their beliefs, I follow the example of Jesus and choose to get to know them and love them for who they are.”

“You haven’t read your Bible, then,” the younger one responds.

Now, mind you, I’m standing there in my clerical collar on my way to lead worship, seminary trained, and with over 20 years of church ministry. And this young kid claims I haven’t read “my” Bible?

I had a few choices at this moment. I could ask if they have ever read or studied the original texts of scripture, the Hebrew and the Greek. I could get into a Biblical debate. I knew better. But I couldn’t resist saying something.

“Jesus calls us to love, isn’t that in the Bible,” I said more than asked.

They began spewing at me all kinds of quotes and catch-phrases, all at the same. I couldn’t understand either one of them.

“What you are doing is sad, disgusting, and totally antithetical to the Jesus given to us in the Bible you purport to follow,” I said, louder than before, in a vain effort to speak over them.

I knew better, but I couldn’t let it go.

“But do you know where they’re going after they die?” the older one repeated.

“Same place as you and me,” I responded as I walked away.

They yelled some more across the street and over the passing cars, trying to call me back.

“I have to go lead God’s people in worship,” I yelled back. “Maybe you should come learn what God’s love looks like.”

I felt both justified and ashamed by my response. This is what they want. They are trying to get a reaction. They’re not actually interested in changing anything or anyone. If anything did change, that would rob them of their vigor.

I walked back into my study, put on my robe, and felt my heart beating hard with anger. I looked at the order for worship and read the liturgy we were to share that day. It being the week we honor the legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the service was shaped around how we are to love even those who hate. My heart broke a little, and a tear slowly cascaded down my cheek. I felt bad for my neighbors who had to endure the ignorance and hate of the imbeciles (forgive me, God) in their driveways. I knew they could handle it. They are a strong community. I then started to feel sorry for the protestors and all that they are missing out on with their hate and unloving.

As we shared the liturgy and sang the songs, as I led the children’s moment on how big God’s love is for us, and as I preached the sermon I had written, my anger transformed ever more into sadness and grief over how little we have grown as a race.

Dr. King was adamant that the only way to combat prejudice and hate is with love.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness.
Only love can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate.
Only love can do that.