Previous Post -Interview with Scott Bessenecker
Recently I have come across a few comments about labels and faith. Generally, people were declaring that they were tired of identifying as “missional Christians”, “emerging Christians” or other such names. Why can’t we, they ask, simply call ourselves Christians? Isn’t it enough to be a follower of Christ? Don’t we lose sight of what is important when we take on identifiers that cloud that underlying truth? I resonate with these questions. I affirm the desire to be identified with Christ alone. There is something to be said about the risk of taking on other labels in our attempt to define ourselves. There is an important caution here that we should all keep in mind.
That being said, there can also be risk inherent of this way of thinking as well. After all, can we really just call ourselves Christians? On one level, of course we can. However, if we are honest with ourselves and each other, we will have to acknowledge that these labels emerged because of very real differences. While many of those differences need not be divisive, others are more significant, even “deal-breakers”. To ignore those differences can recklessly expose ourselves and others to dangers. The labels, used responsibly (and arguably they need to be used very differently than has been the norm) can serve the help us better understand each others.
There is also the great danger of arrogance in this dynamic. Some will say “I don’t need any labels. I am just a Christian”. While there can be some good in that affirmation, there can be the implicit suggestion that, for those who do choose to use identifiers are somehow less Christian. It can, intentionally or not, come across as “I am actually a Christian”, or worse, “I am more of a Christian”. I realize that ride can be just as involved in the use of labels. My point is just that abandoning them altogether changes very little, exchanging one set of problem for another.
While I have resisted denominational identifiers for most of my life, I have made some public and genuine statements about what kind of Christian I am. For example, I would say that I am strongly a missional Christian, even an emerging Christian. Now, I acknowledge that I probably just muddied the water further, requiring much more clarification as to what I mean. I am sure there are those who identify with both of those ethos that would not like to count me in their company (and some I would rather not be identified with). Despite this, I think they can be helpful, not to mention honest.
More recently I have come to identify as a Franciscan and an Anabaptist. Since I am neither Catholic nor Mennonite, what does this mean? Again, they can be helpful touchstones for understanding the nature of the Christian faith I am pursuing in my life and community. It points to emphasis and convictions and even questions that locate me more specifically in the wider community of faith and its history. I hold to neither of these expressions absolutely. Neither do I believe that they are the “better” expressions of Christianity. Of course, there are obviously aspects I believe to be right in opposition to others, such as my deeply held, Biblical conviction about women in church leadership (I am for it). However, it has more to do with my own vocation within the wider Body of Christ, both in relationship to the necessary diversity of the members of that Body and the great diversity of contexts in which that Body functions.
We can’t forget that these labels are simply tools to help us better understand and relate to one another. Yes, that understanding might very well lead to a radical shift (or end) of certain relationships. That is a tragic, but sometime necessary reality of sin. More often, though, if we are willing to take the time and understand and learn from each other, we- and by we, I refer to that same Body I referred to earlier- will gain so very much. Like anyone who has been married will tell you, the very differences that bring the most conflicts are also the places were our hearts can be most transformed.
Some talk about abandoning even the word “Christian”, loaded as it is with such dark history and division. These are the scars on the hands and feet and side of the Body to which we belong. We do not resolve the failures of sin by ignore them, denying them or even distancing ourselves from them. They are part of who we are, eternal reminders. And through His love and grace, they can become symbols of hope and new life.
