Summary

The author expresses deep disillusionment and frustration towards a "Christian" friend whose public support for violence and lack of compassion contradict the teachings of Christianity.

Abstract

In an open letter, the author confronts a friend who identifies as a Christian yet celebrates violent acts against protestors, behavior that starkly contrasts with the principles of love and compassion central to Christian doctrine. The author, once a practicing Christian and now an observer of the faith, reflects on their own understanding of the Bible and theology, contrasting it with the friend's actions. The friend's responses to the pandemic, racial justice movements, and political events are seen as hateful and cruel, leading the author to view them as part of the nation's problems rather than a force for good. The author feels compelled to sever ties with the friend, citing a loss of patience and a hope for a future where such attitudes are a distant memory. Despite the severance, the author offers a prayer for the friend's redemption and emphasizes a continued belief in a collective future that values freedom and justice for all, regardless of race or creed.

Opinions

The author is appalled by the friend's celebration of violence, particularly in the context of a Christian faith that preaches love and compassion.
The friend's behavior is seen as a perversion of Christianity, using it as a guise for hate and fear.
The author questions whether the friend's hate stems from or in spite of their Christian upbringing.
The author equates the friend's social media presence with the Roman soldiers' cruelty towards Jesus, suggesting a profound betrayal of Christian values.
The author believes the friend feels self-righteous and may see themselves as a martyr for their beliefs.
The author feels that the friend's actions are judgment-worthy and reflects poorly on the church and community the friend is involved with.
The author expresses a desire to remember the friend as a cautionary tale against such attitudes and behaviors.
The author, while not religious, is open to the concept of redemption and holds out hope that the friend can change, but only if they want to.
The author's faith lies in a future shaped by collective efforts of people from diverse backgrounds and beliefs, advocating for universal freedom and justice.
The author concludes with a sense of relief and closure in disassociating from the friend, and a genuine wish for the friend to get well, implying a hope for their moral and ethical recovery.

Photo by Hugues de BUYER-MIMEURE on Unsplash

An Open Letter To My “Christian” Friend

I don’t get you. I really don’t.

Dear You,

I don’t understand you, and today, I don’t understand how you can call yourself a Christian.

Before I get into this, I should say that I know not all Christians are like you.

Thank God for that.

For if they were, this world would indeed be a hellscape.

This morning I woke to find you on social media cheering a recent vehicular assault on protestors in Seattle where people were seriously hurt. Someone may have even died. While I was horrified and sickened by the news, you cheered and… praised God.

What the ever-loving hell is wrong with you?

I have not been a practicing Christian in about thirty years, but I’ve read the Bible in its entirety, some parts several times over, and have taken a few classes in theology and have attended my share of Bible study groups. If I were feeling more snarky than outraged, I could talk about it was for these reasons that I no longer have faith in religion.

But today, my more prominent reason for not having faith in religion is people like you.

Where is your compassion? Where is your love?

Where did all of this hate come from?

Did you get this way because of your Christian upbringing or despite it?

I’ve been watching you for a while now, actually, seeing how you’ve been responding to the challenges of the pandemic, the push for racial justices in this country, and the actions of our President, and I have to tell you… you… you’re not on the side of the angels right now.

In fact, you remind me of the Roman soldiers who whipped Christ on the way to the cross. You remind me of the Romans who mocked Christ with a crown of thorns. Every social media post of yours I’ve seen has struck me like a nail being hammered through flesh and wood.

And I don’t believe, I don’t have faith that you have the self-awareness to see this.

I fear you feel righteously justified in your beliefs and that any word contrary — especially a letter like this — is only going to trigger some kind of martyr-complex. You’ll dig in thinking you’re fighting the Good Fight.

You aren’t.

You are what’s wrong with this country. Hate, fear, and cruelty masked as godliness.

I feel sorry for the church you’ve volunteered at for over twenty years. Do they know how twisted your soul is? I feel shame for your community. You may bristle at me sitting here in judgment of you, but really… after seeing you celebrate injury and death coming to fellow human beings because they dare speak up for justice…I believe judgment is deserved.

If you don’t like it, too bad.

My faith is for the future. My prayer is that I will long enough to see people who think and feel like you become a bad memory.

I have no more patience for you.

I am shaking your dust from my sandals.

But I will always remember you, so I can always speak out against your kind.

I will join my voices with Christians worthy of the name, and with Buddhists and Muslims and Jews. And with Hindus, Wiccans, pagans, and atheists. I join my voice with every other voice that believes in freedom and justice for all, and not for a select few of a certain race or brand of “faith.”

I’m not even angry at you anymore. Maybe a little sad because I hadn’t realized sooner how stained your soul was. But I’m also a bit relieved that I can let you go with no regrets.

Mind you, it’s never too late to turn things around. You may recall that a large part of Christianity is the power of redemption. You can be a better person. But like the lightbulb at the psychiatrist’s office, you won’t change until you want to change.

I’m not a religious person. I don’t usually pray, but I will pray for you and others like you.

But I still place my entire stock of faith in the future, with you or without you.

Get well soon.

P.S. For readers… know that this person is no longer connected to me on social media, and I’m not about to dox this person. If you’re still connected to me on social media and think I’m calling you out specifically — I’m not, but you need to ask yourself why you thought so. If we are total strangers and you still feel attacked, again, ask yourself why.

Thank you.