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In Which I'm Tired of the Witch Hunts.

It’s Sunday afternoon, the hail is bouncing against my office window while I write, and I’m exhausted.

In-between the busy morning services and hosting youth group in the evening I sit alone and try to get myself together.

Finding comfort in Jeffery Lewis and a stout I reflect on the past few weeks of division and infighting, anathemas and witch hunts.

How did this become acceptable to people?

It’s incredibly saddening, even sickening.

I don’t think I can handle seeing one more angry Facebook debate or hearing another less-than-subtle accusation from the pulpit that a certain pastor finally revealed themselves to be a false teacher.

Why are so we so eager to devour each other?

Why the hint of jubilation as we throw a fellow believer under the bus?

Why are we Protestants, who exist because of people willing to question the status quo, so hostile to those who in turn question us?

It’s not about that certain pastor really. Whether you like his books or agree with his theology isn’t my concern, because it’s not really that important and it isn’t the point.

It’s about what all this reveals.

About the way the Christian community treats its own, about the shibboleths and social bandwagons you are pressured to go along with, about guilt by association and secondary separation.

Lord bring peace to your Church, may we follow you with love and grace, may we listen before we respond, and may we refuse to take joy in vilifying our brothers and sisters.