Listening with grace

On Sunday, I attended a relatively new Sunday School class at my church, called Rewilding the Way. It's essentially a discussion of Todd Wynward's new book Rewilding the Way, which I highly recommend. To begin the discussion hour, the facilitator read aloud a passage from the book.

One of the topics mentioned in the passage was climate change.

The grim future that [Roy] Scranton had witnessed in Iraq had come home -- not through enemy attack but through social collapse in the face of an extreme and unpredictable climate. (p.165)

The discussion facilitator suggested we go around the circle and respond with our thoughts about the passage, or about the book in general. Many of the responses touched on climate change, and the perspectives ranged across the spectrum -- from "The facts are clear, and the situation is dire" to "I know I should do something, but how much can one person do?" to "The experts disagree on this subject so I don't think it's a big deal."

If you know me at all, you know how I feel about this. As my blood began to boil at certain comments, the urge to spout factual evidence at the people who were so blatantly wrong grew and grew.

A quick side note:
I have often cited with pride Beth-El Mennonite's theological diversity. As the only Mennonite church in a city of 440,000 people, it makes sense that our congregation would be more diverse than most. Our people are all across the board on social, religious, and political issues. And somehow, through the grace of God and the hard work of the pastor and worship leaders, it works.

Conversely, I spent most of my childhood in Harrisonburg, a small city of about 50,000 people that supported nearly thirty Mennonite churches. In that kind of setting, why bother having contentious conversations when you can easily surround yourself with people who agree with you?

Here we don't have that option.

While sitting in that classroom listening to my fellow Christ-followers talk about their beliefs, I realized something important: I can't claim to value theological diversity without practicing grace myself. In order to fully participate in being church with people who disagree with me, I have to be willing to do the messy work of having conversations about difficult things. I have to extend grace and love to my neighbors who disagree with me. I have to prioritize relationships over being right.

It was an important reminder that what I claim to value in my church is not something I am actually used to participating in.

Sitting there, together with twenty-odd other people who chose to be there that morning -- just to show up regardless of conflict or contentiousness or controversy, and to leave the room still full of love --
I was grateful.