Jul 5, 2011
My Bad Romance with Fundamentalism
When I met Julie, I was extremely cautious and deliberate in my approach to dating her. I wanted to take every step carefully so that I didn’t mess anything up. From my perspective, I was correcting some mistakes I’d made a few years before in some loosely defined relationships that eventually went down in flames.
I’d learned from my mistakes, and so far as I could tell, things were now awesome.
At the time, Julie was a little confused. I was overcompensating big time, and we didn’t clear things up until years later when I described where I was coming from.
In a sense, those former romances were tagging along into our relationship, impacting how I acted around Julie. Thankfully we didn’t have any major obstacles to overcome after dealing with my initial missteps.
As a wise woman once said, when you want someone’s love and you want someone’s revenge, you end up writing a bad romance…
These bad romances end up coloring how we interact in future relationships. When I look bad at what happened with myself and fundamentalist Christianity, it sort of colors my world much like a bad relationship that I simply can’t get over.
While I can still appreciate some things about my fundamentalist roots, I think I still treat them like a bad relationship that wounded me and comes up over and over again. I still react strongly against being judged and evaluated in church. I get really angry when people try to play heresy police with me, attacking my beliefs rather than engaging in a discussion. I get a knot in my stomach when someone turns the Bible into a simple black and white reference guide.
After my bad relationship with fundamentalism, I’m tempted to define myself according to what I’m not.
I want to point out what those other fundamentalist do, rather than addressing my own issues—which begin with not wanting to address my own issues.
Fundamentalists become “those people” who do everything wrong and provide the perfect foil for all of the good things I’m trying to do.
It’s like I can see how bad and destructive the relationship was, but rather than moving on with good things and asking God what he’d like me to do today, I need to keep beating up on the fundamentalists because of how they impacted my relationship with God and the church. It’s like I can’t let go of something that hurt me because if I let go of that hurt, I have to face who I really am and figure what I’m supposed to do next.
The cross and resurrection bring change to our lives, but only after the depths of our pain have been exposed to God. It seems that every time I think God has healed me from the judgment and fear of my past, something else comes up again. And then the cross and power of God have to be manifested in new ways.
And the point of it all is that God wants to write a new romance with us that replaces our old stories and will hopefully one day even overshadow the memory of every pop song, no matter how catchy it may be.
Having deep roots in fundamentalism, this piece sure hits home. I’ve also seen that some of the most staunch Reformed Protestants are former Roman Catholics. I carry baggage, but God has graciously opened my eyes to the good things I received during those early years. For all their flaws, “those people” showed me my need for Jesus and taught me to hide God’s word in my heart–King James, red letter edition. My only response for those gifts can be gratitude.
Good point Nancy. Once we’ve moved away from defining ourselves against fundamentalism and can enjoy a new identity in Christ, the way has been cleared to appreciate the good things fundamentalism has done and can continue to offer.
Your example of failed relationships from the past exerting influence in the present is such a good image. Poor Julie, she dated not only you, but the ghosts of your past relationships. And ghosts come and go in the most difficult way–now you see them, now you don’t.
In my few years of church life I have seen time and again people–no, whole churches–organized around what they are NOT. Too many churches are half filled with people and completely filled with the ghosts of the past. It makes for a haunted house.
That’s not to give a pass to the mistakes of fundamentalists (or Roman Catholics, or whomever comprises our individual history), but it’s a wise person who takes the best from the past and moves on. Kudos to you, and Julie!
Love it, man!
It’s all too easy to throw the baby out with the bathwater, when it comes to fundamentalism. Your post reminded me not to do that (even if that wasn’t quite your angle.)
This is good stuff, right here, Ed. Great analogy.