Most of us have heard of the famous Christmas Truce of 1914. For roughly a week before Christmas, the shooting of the First World War ceased, and carols were sung from the trenches and even together across no man's land. Capt. Josef Sewald of Germany's 17th Bavarian Regiment remembered it this way:
"I shouted to our enemies that we didn't wish to shoot and that we make a Christmas truce. I said I would come from my side and we could speak with each other. First there was silence, then I shouted once more, invited them, and the British shouted "No shooting!" Then a man came out of the trenches and I on my side did the same and so we came together and we shook hands—a bit cautiously!"
Gifts were exchanged between the British and German troops, soccer games were played… and for one brief moment, in one of the bloodiest conflicts ever, the guns were silent as members of two opposing armies united to celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace. This Christmas season, I'm wondering if we might see something of the same spirit that was displayed by those soldiers in the trenches almost a hundred years ago.
Christianity as a house divided is nothing new. We have long been a people of factions and fighting, taking delight when our tribe or small corner of the Church increased and someone else's decreased. We defend the leaders of our parties, making excuses for all manner of behavior and error while being quick to jump and judge when prominent figures in opposing movements show the slightest signs of human weakness, or make a verbal gaffe. We divide and divide again over the most miniscule doctrinal points, and rather than coming together to discuss and resolve the greater doctrinal points, we dig our trenches ever deeper.
Technology has been no help in all of this, either. If anything, we have taken what could be used as a tool to bring understanding, connection and dialogue across our lines of separation and used it instead to foster animus, controversy and division. The amount of ire and vitriol has only grown as we tweet, blog and post things we would surely never say in the presence of those whose lives and doctrines we are criticizing. We have grace enough for those who are in our own theological camps, but all too often nothing more than scorn or mockery for those who aren't.
Richard Baxter, the great Puritan pastor of the 1600's said:
"He who is not a son of peace is not a son of God. All other sins destroy the church consequentially, but division and separation demolish it directly. Building the church is but an orderly joining of the materials; and what then is disjoining, but pulling down? Many doctrinal differences must be tolerated in a church. And why, but for unity and peace? Therefore, disunion and separation are utterly intolerable."
I would never advocate that we ignore real issues, gloss over real sin, or otherwise pretend that doctrine is inconsequential. But the more critiques, pushbacks and gleeful schadenfreude-filled I-can't-believe-what-so-and-so-said's that I read, the more I'm convinced we're missing the point of following the One who prayed that we would be one, even as He and His Father are one.
As with all things, it's a heart issue. Do we want others to succeed or to fail, even others with whom we have profound disagreements? Do we mourn when leaders of other tribes within Christendom fail, or do we laugh? Do we search out the latest controversy, immersing ourselves in the details, parsing every statement in an effort to find disagreement or better yet, fault? Are we peacemakers or have we all become something else?
Even as I write this I know I'm writing to myself. I'm as guilty as anyone in all of this. I've written my share of hit pieces, pushback posts and tweets I probably shouldn't have. I've snickered at fallen leaders, shaken my head at those who do church differently and generally been frustrated at the growth of ministries I have real disagreements with. And I feel acute conviction over all this when I read Baxter's declaration: "How rare is it to meet with a man who smarts or bleeds with the Church's wounds, or sensibly takes them to heart as his own; or that ever had eager thoughts of a cure!"
So what say we call a truce? Even if it's just for a week or two, let's hold off on pushing back on someone else's pushback of yet someone else's critique. Let's forget, just for a moment that we are progressives, conservatives, emergent, Anabaptist, young-restless-and-reformed- that we are pro-gay marriage or pro-traditional families, that we are egalitarians or complimentarians, Protestant, Catholic or Orthodox… and just be followers of Jesus. Can we just for the moment drop the us vs. them mentality and wish "them" well this Christmas? Let's ignore the controversies, give the other side the benefit of the doubt and focus a little less on our distinctives.
Because, let's be honest: if we can't "lay down our arms," and for once, just be Christians, united in our common love of a common Savior, we might as well pack it in. Because this war will not be won when everyone holds the same theological positions as we do, feels the same way about our issues (however important they may be), or when everyone does church the way we think it ought to be done. It will be won when everyone knows we are followers of Christ by our love for each other and are drawn by that love into the arms of a loving Savior.
So this Christmas, remember—just because you have a shot, doesn't mean you need to take it. Sometimes it's better to put the guns down, reach across the lines and shake the other guy's hand.
Bob Hyatt is a writer and pastor of the Evergreen Community in Portland, Oregon.
