wimps for Jesus

Over at Rev Gals today, there's an interesting discussion on the public - vs - private celebration of a baptism. I weighed in briefly, but after I did, I starting thinking more about the passion of those who were responding in a different direction than I did. Which, in turn, got me thinking about the whole issue of conviction, and how to walk the balance beam between intolerant and anything-goes. This is a beam on which I regularly fail to stick my landings, I fear. But worth thinking about some more.

The discussion started with a pastor who wants to know whether or not to celebrate a private baptism for a family somewhat estranged from the church. (As I write this, there are 6 comments on the post, and I think all of them are from Lutherans - no accident, I suspect!) I've been in that situation. I've said 'yes' to a private baptism, and I've said 'no' to more than one. When I said 'yes,' I felt guilty about violating what I deeply believe to be the essentially public nature of that act. And when I said 'no,' I felt sad about hurting a family who could not understand why any pastor would refuse to baptize somebody. You can argue that I shouldn't have felt guilty in either direction. I really wouldn't care, because I am the sort of person who generally looks for excuses to feel guilty anyway, so your very valid point probably wouldn't do much for me.

There are plenty of examples in the church and the world where way too much conviction, or absolutely none at all, create big problems. It's easy to set up either extreme and point and laugh, and claim not to be either one. Find a completely intolerant preacher who refuses to open his doors to a gay couple - thank God I'm not like that. Find another wishy-washy one who works so hard not to offend people that she ends up saying absolutely nothing at all - thank God I'm not like that.

I believe Jesus had something to say about that sort of response.

But it's a lot harder to live in the middle, where you know what you think theologically, but you also have to deal with the real, human, messy emotions that get in the way of nice clear theology. Somebody ought to tell you in seminary that you are going to sell your soul a million stupid times, and that it's going to bother the hell out of you, but that you're not always going to figure a way out of it.

Good theology is crucial. I believe that now more than ever, when good theology is getting shouted out of the public sphere by flashy idiots who believe stupid but ratings-getting things. There are times to stand up for good theology. There are times to say 'no' to things which violate your honestly-held, deeply-thought-out, humbly-convicted beliefs.

But I suspect the bigger temptation for some pastors - for this one, anyway - is to use theology as a weapon of sorts, claiming that the real work of the gospel is to do what God wants in spite of the human cost. I wonder sometimes if we mainline pastors are so desperate to be sure of something that we will hold onto our theology at rather silly points, when making a compromise might actually be the more faithful thing to do.

Baptism isn't silly, of course. There might well be a time when you will talk with a family seeking baptism and realize that their motivations are so completely at odds with the very nature of baptism, that you simply have to refuse to participate. That happens.

But what's more likely to happen is a much less clear-cut moment, where there are complicated family dynamics and church expectations and holiday schedules and "my Grandma can only be here on a Tuesday" kind of stuff. Where you will not know exactly which solution God is rooting for. Where either direction will be imperfect.

And I suppose the only conviction I've come to in those moments, is the hope of God's forgiveness, and the realization that life is a lot more questions than answers. I am suspicious of people who are too sure of everything. Almost as suspicious as I am of people who are not sure of anything. And I am somewhere in the middle, where I hope my endless uncertainty, if nothing else, at least keeps me on my toes.