Religion: A Black and White Matter

I have been confronted for this, but I continue to keep it a secret that I am marrying a pastor. People ask me what I do, and the answer is simple: “I’m a hairdresser” or “I’m finishing my degree in counseling and am going to be a marriage and family therapist,” to which people typically respond with interest and additional questions. But people ask me what my fiancé does, and I struggle to answer and usually settle on, “he’s a musician,” to which I have to answer the inevitable follow-up questions regarding if they’ve ever heard of him before, or if he’s in a band, or where his workplace is.” Of course, he IS a musician, because you can’t be a worship pastor without also being quite musically skilled, but no, they probably have not heard of him, no, he’s not in a band, and his workplace is a church stage.

So I try a more generic answer and go with a “stage design coordinator” but questions that corner me are sure to arise from that answer as well. And that usually leads the person I’m trying to get to know into thinking he’s not a provider because he’s too busy being a wandering, entrepreneurial, visionary who I have to support. So I try to keep him out of the discussion because the conversation doesn’t go as well as soon as they ask about the ring on my finger.

Yes, I am proud of him. Yes, I love him, and yes, he is a provider and we live a comfortable life with enough to meet our needs and enjoy ourselves. But I don’t like telling people he’s a pastor because the second I do, they stop cussing, they start asking for advice, and they have a crystal image of me in their minds as if I’m going to report their behavior to God. It’s like I’m suddenly in the friend zone, only it’s a zone where they will never actually be my friend because the “pastors wife!!!” siren is flashing from my head like a policeman who is waiting to pull you over for the slightest wrong thing you do.

So I keep it on the down low, because I’m branded by my religion and often lose my shot at making a new friend. I’m not going to hit you with my Bible. I’m not going to lay hands on you in prayer for your soul if you accidentally swear around me. I’m not going to continually invite you to church and only talk about theology and how to worship God. I’m just a person who likes to make new friends without being judged by what I believe.

Why does religion have to be so divisive? People feel differently about a lot of things but they still get along. My dad is a Trump supporter, and I think Trump is a misogynistic chauvinist. My mom is really in to organics soaps and scent oils, but I think that is a very expensive and unnecessary hobby. I am a huge fan of yoga, but a lot of people criticize that interest because it has pagan roots in the worship or false gods. My fiancé hates country music but I think he’s crazy for not being a fan. But I deeply love all of these people and we get along beautifully in spite of different beliefs.

Though politics, health, and interests are all valid topics to fight each other on, religion is entirely its own bag of dissension. It causes more prejudice than racial feuds, more violent arguments than familial discord, and more longstanding opposition than nations in a state of war. People even pick their schools by the religious stance of the college! Some families pick who their children are allowed to friends with based off of religion.

So why exactly is religion such a difficult topic to stomach?

Well, Christianity, for one, is very disagreeable unless it’s your belief system. The Bible talks about its own divisive nature in Matthew 10:32–38:

“Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.

“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn

“ ‘a man against his father,

a daughter against her mother,

a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law —

a man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.’

“Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”

As much as Christianity is hugely based on love and acceptance, we notice several things in this verse that show the more disagreeable nature of Christianity:

1, The “me” in this verse is Jesus and he says, if we choose Jesus, we’re in, and if we don’t choose Jesus, he will disown us in front of God and we won’t be allowed into heaven.

2, Jesus clearly states that he never came to bring peace to the world, and is in fact varnishing a sword, which is by no means peaceful. He’s a warrior and he means business.

3, Jesus brings a message that causes disagreement between family members! Religion is clearly not meant to be a bonding topic if you’re not of the same conviction as another person.

4, Not only does Jesus’ message cause dissension between family members, but we are expected to love this Salvation more than our own mother and father, or daughter or son. This could mean several things- one option being that we are supposed to risk sharing a tense conversation with our loved ones and be an advocate of true salvation whether they like it or not, or that we literally must care about this divisive message more than our most valuable relationships on earth if these relationships are hindering us from knowing God better. I would argue both to be an application of this verse.

It’s no wonder people treat me differently when they find out I’m a member of a rather abrasive belief system- a system where you’re either in or VERY out, a system with a leader who brandishes a weapon of war, and a system in which separation from all that hinders our full commitment to the faith is required.

So what can we expect now that we see that the very essence of religion is not of peace but of truth at the cost of unity?

We can expect people to disagree with us.

We can expect people to make lame jokes when they hear us mention church.

We can expect people to awkwardly change their behavior around us when they find out we are a pastors’ wife.

The very nature of our religion is one that calls for full commitment, abandonment of hindrances to commitment, and let’s not forget that Christianity tells us we are doomed to hell and can’t change this trajectory on our own. 1 John 1:8–10 is one of the many verses that tells us of our depravity and dependence on God for liberation from sin and the gift of Salvation:

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.”

What do Christians do about this?

WE LOVE.

Seems a little underwhelming. But that’s how it is. We must adhere to truth but use a salve of love. Truth is black and white. Right is right and wrong is wrong.

But love is also black and white. Either you are loving someone or you are neglecting them. Love is the perfect companion of truth.

So make friends based on who they are instead of inwardly flipping out because they are a pastors’ wife or an atheist or a wrestler or a lesbian or a stripper or a doctor or hairstylist or teacher. And believe in truth and in love and practice them both as companions of each other. Don’t ever measure a person by their belief system. Don’t ever decide a person can’t be your friend just because of a stigma.

Love the truth, and love the person.