Being Particular: Examining Truth, Faith, and Hypocrisy

I have made part of my goals for the New Year to write every day, even if just in a journal for a few moments. Today, I was reflecting on a passage in Ryan Holiday’s “The Daily Dad,” which I have been using as a daily starting point for my reflections and writing. In the passage he spoke about from yesterday, he spoke about not being a hypocrite. Writing on that, I reflected on my conflict with my own hypocrisy. I strive to not be a hypocrite, and I suspect most of us have moments where we may be hypocritical, whether about someone else’s driving or even someone else’s health choices and our own.  As I reflected on that, I thought of my past when I identified outwardly as a Christian. I would read the Bible daily, I listened to sermons, I went to church, and I read books about the faith. Hell, I wound up going to grad school at a faith-based university. All along the way, I grappled with my own faith and whether or not I was changed enough or deserving of the title of “Christian.” I have a robust vocabulary, which has, as far back as fifth grade, been punctuated by some of the filthiest words imaginable, to my own glee. I have always delighted in dirty, crude, crass, and often offensive jokes and humor, and I discovered I enjoyed sexual things, whether or not I was married. To me, I felt like I was failing as a Christian and doing it wrong.

As I grappled with that, I watched people who identified as Christian, and who seemed to have no such conflict, say and do horrible, vile, and despicable things. All while still proudly proclaiming themselves as Christians. I struggled with the idea that I would be aligned with them. I had always strived to be a “good” person, and seeing this discrepancy between my behavior and theirs, I felt like surely they were misusing the term “Christian.” However, they seemed to grow in numbers. They seemed to grow in power and in volume to the point where people saying and doing the most vile shit I had seen were claiming to know the Lord I had been associated with for so long. As I watched that, as I struggled seeing atrocities being committed in the name of faith, I realized I could not associate with them. I recognized that carrying that term of being a Christian would mean that I would either be grouped in with them, or that I would have to devote so much energy to calling out their behavior that it would be a full-time role, which I would not get paid for. I thought of Paul saying you had to confront your brother when they did wrong (paraphrasing, of course), and I did not have the energy or desire to devote to full-time calling out of all the so-called Christians I saw all over. So, I distanced myself. Life, specifically work, had already made it so that I wasn’t able to routinely attend church, and eventually I began to lapse in the areas of reading the Bible and prayer. Prayer was the last to go, I guess, because it was the most private and the most direct connection to the faith that felt like it was withering.

Many years of distance, and I find myself now feeling a desire to move back into that relationship. I reflected in my journal that I wasn’t sure if it was just a desire to feel that in the end, someone would reckon with the horrors of an administration rooted in Christian nationalism, or if it was to use Christ as a confrontation, his words and actions being counter to everything the current administration claims is rooted in His name. I had moments where my Christian tattoo meant people (always white folks, speaking almost conspiratorially) would approach me and say they were glad to see people on their side, or that they were glad the country was righting itself, or something similarly disturbing. But, as I focused on reading accounts of Civil Rights movement leaders, so much of their strength seemed to come from their faith and their belief in Christ. I saw it with book after book I read, both more recent accounts and ones from before I was born. I began to see faith as a powerful thing again, and one that was not always corrupted. I am not at a place where I am willing to use the title of Christian, and I am not sure where my belief in a higher power lies right now (I mean, my football team did not win the national championship, so how could I be?). But really, a lot boils down to recognizing how much hurt and trauma is done in the name of Christian belief, especially in this country today, and especially by people who look like me. I have joked I am “Republican passing” and a mutual on social media said I was indeed “Republican coded”, which I suppose is a blessing and a curse. I want to demonstrate safety to people who have been harmed and who are marginalized. Having my outward appearance and the fact that I registered as a Republican for my first-ever election means, in some ways, I am a part of the problem. But I can also represent that there is hope and that change is possible.

I don’t really claim one party over the other, because the Democrats disappoint me on a daily basis. However, I believe where the GOP has moved now is truly and sincerely evil. I do not feel anything they do is for the good of the nation or the greater good. I feel it is all in the name of increasing the wealth of the richest, which DOES fly in the face of Christian faith. Look up “camel and needle, Bible” if you are unsure. So, while I may not be a “Christian,” many of those who claim that title today are the hypocrites we were warned about. Many of them are using the name of the Lord in a way that sullies it, and I will stand with people who are doing deeds that are for the greater good. Those whose actions and words are aligned, regardless of what they do or do not believe and worship. Like Fred Rogers said, “Look for the helpers.” I assure you, the helpers are not the ones aligning with the authoritarian folks these days.