Good for Nothing

I'm again delaying a response to conservative evangelical theology due to an experience in church today.

My congregation was blessed this morning with a special message from Virgil Gulker, the founder of Kid's Hope USA, a ministry that pairs adult mentors with underprivileged or at-risk elementary school children. Throughout the school year, the mentors each meet with their assigned child (each mentor has only one) for one hour each week. They may work on school projects, reading/math skills, play games, read stories, or just talk.

Although studies have shown that mentored kids exhibit marked academic improvement, Dr. Gulker clarified that the most vital benefits were intangible: the children have a friendly, consistent adult presence in their lives. Again and again, he says, children will ask their mentor, "What other schools do you go to? How many other kids do you mentor?" And the mentor will answer, "I only go to this school, and I only see you." The mentors show up, says Dr. Gulker, and they show up reliably, there totally for the child. For many of these kids, that's a phenomenon unheard of in their lives, and that's part of what makes Kids Hope work.

The other component of the Kids Hope ministry kids found miraculous, Dr. Gulker explained, was its volunteer nature. He told of a standard conversation between kids and their mentor:

"Why are you here? Are you teacher?" they ask. No. "Are you a social worker?" No. "I know--you're a teacher's aide." No. "Then how much do you make for seeing me?" Nothing. "Why would you do it?" Because you're my friend.

That, Dr. Gulker says, is the other miracle component from kids' perspectives: The mentors expect nothing in return for their friendship. They aren't paid, they aren't reimbursed, and they don't have to be there to fulfill some boss's mandate. They're good--for nothing.

That "good--for nothing" resonates with the core of the unconditional love I learned to identify as the prime attribute of God. As I've explained, I came to see my early evangelical faith as bound up in self-concern. I became a Christian, initially and primarily (if not exclusively), to avoid hell. I was to spread the gospel by activating others' sense of eternal self-preservation. You don't want to go to hell, do you? Then be saved by trusting in Christ.

The aura of contractual obligation--on me and on God--made it increasingly difficult for me to imagine how to be in love with God or how to show love to others without first thinking of the terms of the contract. Was I saved? Was I headed for heaven instead of hell? And I knew that, on facing God after death, God's first interaction with me was not "Welcome home, my child!" but "Is your name in my Book of Life? It is? Then--whom have you brought with you by your mortal witness?" Even reunion with God was a test--how had I fulfilled my half of the bargain (faith and not works, yes--but authentic faith: there's the rub).

This anxious questioning often crowded out every other thought, keeping my faith at a fight-or-flight panic status.

Imagining God's love as unconditional--love for nothing--freed me.

Early on in this blog, I mentioned the old story of the traveler passing a woman carrying a bucket of water in one hand and a flaming torch in the other. "I'm going to burn away the clouds and mansions of heaven, and I'm going to douse the fires of hell," she explained, "Then we'll see who still cares to follow the Way of Christ." Would we as humans love God--for nothing in return? What if the Christian philosophy had no sense of afterlife or immortal soul? Would the Christianity--a life lived in devotion to God and neighbor--be as attractive a life option for people?

Alternately, and in a way even more challenging to my evangelical roots: what if God loved us--loved everyone--with no eternal threat or reward to compel us to return that love? I've explored at length my troubles with the notion of God as Godfather, extending to humanity an offer it can't refuse: "put your entire faith in me--and enjoy eternal bliss--or decline to do so and face eternal torment." What if God's lovingkindness were extended freely?

Canadian singer-songwriter Ron Sexsmith has a song along these lines titled, appropriately enough, "God Loves Everyone" (here's a nice cover of it, or you can find the original on his album Cobblestone Runway). It's both shockingly heretical from a conservative evangelical point of view--and somehow more right, more consonant with the most challenging, Spirit-filled moments of conviction I've experienced than any of my fear-filled, self-centered questionings regarding my eternal fate.

What if "there are no gates in Heaven/ everyone gets in/ queer or straight/ those of every fate"? What if God really does love "the killer in his cell/the atheist as well/ the pure at heart/ and the wild at heart"? What happens to Christianity when you don't have to be Christian--one of the elect--to receive the grace of God?

Ah, say my imaginary conservative-evangelical readers, you've still avoided the challenge you raised yesterday. Namely: what about all those scriptures attesting to God's hatred? "Jacob have I loved; Esau have I hated." What about the God who calls for the destruction of enemies? The God who binds up and casts into the outer darkness those not heeding his call? The God who "gives them up" to their own fates? What about the God who forsakes us? Where is love in abandonment?

Is that a love that's good for nothing?

The answer, I think, begins by recognizing that Christ himself asked this same question on the Cross...

More tomorrow,

JF