Outside, the blue dawn emerged softly, with a fine mist in the air. Nestled on the couch in our warm living room, with a cup of hot coffee and a bowl of Grape-Nuts, I turned on the TV and flipped channels between bites.

 

My day was a blank page I hoped to fill with relaxation and enjoyment of God's presence. Life was good. 

I stopped flipping at the image of a man, his body contorted and immobile, his face intact, lying on a bed and talking about God's will for his life. He looked severely disabled. They showed photos of him as a normal-looking person, standing and walking. Now this.

 

As I watched the remaining 15 minutes of the show, my spirit migrated from peace to turmoil. I hadn't expected to be so disturbed by the show's content, to get my buttons pushed. But in the course of an hour, I went on a journey from bitterness to hope. Let me explain.

The man's face was serene. He talked about how God didn't just allow his
suffering. God had given it to him.

 

To me, the man was a person of great faith. Because I too have dealt with increased bodily limitations on a smaller scale, I was interested in what he had to say. I found him inspiring, for the simple reason that he was not letting his body dictate what went on in his spirit. Furthermore, he accepted his condition as a partnership with God - rather than as God's way of punishing him.

As the man's image faded and music came on, a host appeared on the screen, discussing the disabled man and praising him. He asked us how that man's life could not be considered worthy and a life of service to God. It sure was, I thought. Next, he talked about how people who want to abort babies and handicapped folks aren't grasping the value of human life. I would have to agree.

Stupid, ignorant, out of touch with reality?

 

But as the show continued, it became clear to me that this man's focus was different from my own. There's a cultural war going on, he said. And as Christians, we've been called every name under the sun for fighting it - stupid, ignorant and out of touch with reality.

It was here that I started to draw a line. I knew that "these people," the ones who loved to identify with what the man was saying, worshipped the same God I did. But I wouldn't want to party with them.

In fact, I imagined they would look a few people in our church up and down if they were to meet them, appraising the spaghetti strap tank tops, the five-inch long goatees, the tattoos.

 

I began to question the state of their hearts. Instead of being about Jesus Christ, the one who heals and forgives sins, they were about fighting America's cultural war, and they seemed intent on winning. Where was the love?	'I'm all for being a good wife  and mother under the Holy Spirit's direction, but they made it look like that was all women do!'

 

I continued to watch as they previewed an upcoming culture war conference. Then, there was something on a Bible study, with little snippets of men and a woman seeking answers to questions in their lives. The men - all white - were asking for wisdom and guidance in how to argue their faith. The woman - also white - wanted godly advice on how to be a good wife and mother.

Ick! I'm all for being a good wife and mother under the Holy Spirit's direction, but they made it look like that was all women do! And what was up with the non-diverse demographic? Were they blatantly marketing to Caucasians as if nobody else mattered?

 

Hold on, rewind, back up....

To top it off, there was an invitation to sign up for a luxury cruise that toured famous parts of Europe. So you can work on fighting the culture war while you sail the ocean with your white buddies and the women take care of the kids below deck.

 

I turned off the TV and called my dad. I told him about the show, because I couldn't get it off my mind.	'Judge not, lest ye be judged....'

As I did a recap for him, I thought about all the things that were wrong
with their approach - and wondered whether they were doing damage to
non-believers. But as my dad made thoughtful replies, a quiet spirit
rose within me. Hold on, it said. Rewind. Back up.

Judge not, lest ye be judged.

I was guilty of what I accused "those people" of doing. Narrow-mindedly,
I assumed the imperfections I could so clearly see meant they could not be instruments of God's grace.

 

An experience I had back in December came to mind. I had gone to a Wednesday night sermon at a church down the street from Dad's house. About ten people were there, four of them women.	'...when the preacher spoke of the Word, showing God's eternal and immutable love for us, how could I not respond with joy?'

All the women had head coverings on, following that church's interpretation of     1 Corinthians 11: 5-6. I slouched in my seat and pulled the hood of my black Carhartt jacket over my head in a weak attempt to conform. I felt ashamed.

But when the preacher spoke of the Word, showing God's eternal and immutable love for us, how could I not respond with joy? I left happy that night, full of a peace that came from Jesus rather than anyone's acceptance of me.

After I hung up the phone, I found myself concluding that yes, the people on the TV show probably do love God. But that's not my concern. I can't judge their hearts and I shouldn't try. Plus, I might take some of what they said to heart. Often, Christians who embrace popular culture so freely run the risk of becoming ensnared by it.

 

Many of our members see the art and pain in hip hop, the beauty in body art, the talent and skill in skateboarding, the downfalls of rampant consumerism. But our way of life is not the only way, and hypocrisy strikes among us every day.

So while my tribe and the tribe of those I saw on TV might be different, we are still members of the same family. We are all sinners redeemed by the blood of Jesus.

This Heavenly family of believers is far greater and harder to fathom than the cultural clumps into which we comfortably group ourselves. So as much as liberals talk about not judging, we need to be careful not to condemn our brothers and sisters when we think they're guilty of that sin.

After all, the show's creators had made me aware of a man whose faith was inspiring - a man whose image I won't forget. God had used his story to minister to me.

But I had to get around a little mountain of pride and self-righteousness first. That's the journey He took me on that Sunday morning.

 

This opinion piece was written by Julia Kennedy from California, USA. Julia works as a high school substitute teacher and freelance journalist for the Religion section of her local newspaper. She was also involved in 24-7 Prayer's US consultation in Kansas City last year.