WWJB: What Would Jesus Blog? [A Response]

On Friday, Christianity Today asked the question “What would Jesus Blog?”  In the article, Lisa Velthouse outlined the issue of bloggers and pastors vying for headlines by attacking controversial or conflict-laden topics.  Her message was clear: “Controversy is not a Christian virtue” and Jesus didn’t come to make headlines. Here is my response:

I’m not a big fan of response articles.  I don’t like the grovelling for page views by using the name of a big and mighty blogger or author or pastor, that often accompany the responses.  I don’t write or read many of these posts for the exact reasons that Lisa outlined.   Enough with the controversy, we need a bit more unity.   Just to be clear, when I read what Lisa had to say, I was standing on my chair, applauding.  And I’m writing this, not because I want to tear down and dissect what Lisa wrote, but because I think her words are a necessary part of this conversation.  But might I be so bold as to add, that I think these words here, these words that won’t reach many ears, these words too, are necessary to the conversation.

So what would Jesus do if He had a blog?  What would He choose to write about?

I think Jesus would call Bulls**t.  I think Jesus would call us on our sexism and our ableism, our homophobia, our racism.  Jesus would look us straight in the eye and talk to us about our privilege.  Jesus would make us acknowledge that privilege, wrestle it to the ground and then do something about it.  I know this, because He did this.  

When Jesus walked this earth, He threw culture on its head.  More significantly, He threw religious culture on its head.  He rebuked the Pharisees.  He was friends with prostitutes and tax collectors.  He hung out with the literal and figurative lepers of society.  If Jesus was in your town, or my town today, I think you’d find him chillin’ at a gay bar, or at a soup kitchen, or a methadone clinic, or in the outpatients lobby of the mental health hospital, or maybe having tea at your kitchen table.   

And while we’re at it, I think kitchen tables are much better suited for wrestling with the hard topics.  Let’s sit face to face, shoulder to shoulder, not just screen to screen, and LISTEN.  I don’t have all the knowledge. I don’t have all the answers.  Neither do you.   If we take a moment to stop debating and convincing, we might learn from each other.   

Most of the conversations should be happening at tables over tea.   But then there are times when we need to call each other out (in love, humility, and respect). Occasionally that happens in the more public sphere of the online world.  [And maybe we need to have a discussion about the parameters within which public discourse is necessary, and how to conduct ourselves in such situations.  That’s a topic for another time.  But I think a good place to start, is to consider if our words build up, or tear down the Body of Christ.]

Sometimes it is about headlines, but most times it’s about connecting.  It’s about caring so much for the Body of Christ that we want to engage with her.  We will not sit idly by when we believe the words of others are tearing down our sisters and brothers.  And that is necessary.  That is good.  Neither side, the Christian progressives, nor the conservatives, have a monopoly on morality.  The position of neutrality is an option afforded to us by our privilege.  This is not the glorification of controversy.  This is rejoicing in the freedom to disagree with each other, to join with each other, to wrestle with it all the way to the foot of the cross.   To work it out with fear and trembling.

The Jesus I’ve encountered makes room for that.  He rejoices in those who care so much about His Word and His people that they will come to the top of the mountain and refuse to move until they have encountered Him.  They will seek answers.  They will seek justice. 

But the Jesus I know doesn’t stop there.  The Jesus I know tells stories. He connects with his people through stories.  He talks about lost sheep, and mustard seeds, and prodigals.  He knows our need for community.  How sometimes the doctrine, and hermeneutics, and grappling with theology are too much for our hurt.  Forget about being for us, we just want someone who is with us.  We don’t need someone on cheering for us from the sidelines.  We need someone with us, holding our hand, helping us take the next step. 

This little sphere of the internet that I call home is still being built.  I’m still trying to figure out the layout of my house: do I want oak or maple cabinets?  Where will we put the reading nook? Will we sit around the fireplace on oversized chesterfields, detailing our delights and drawing roadmaps through our regrets?  Or will we huddle around tables drinking tea and talking doctrine.   Or maybe, in this house, there will be room for both.

So, welcome.  Come on in.  Pull up a chair, doesn’t matter which one, whatever looks most comfortable.  Because in this house there will be days when we are tackling theology and confronting culture.  And then there will be days when we are stitching the fraying fabric of our hearts into the tapestry of humanity.

Maybe it’s the social worker in me, or the feminist in me.  Or maybe it’s the Jesus in me, but I think the personal is political.  The personal is spiritual.  The personal is theological.  And sometimes, the personal is controversial.   I don’t think Jesus would shy away from that.   I am doing my best to follow His example.

Tweet