Walls versus Bridges

Not everyone lives near the Southern Border, obviously, but if you ever travel down this way, you should take a trip to see the wall. The towering steel barrier is not a pretty sight, certainly, but it is impressive. The thirty-foot high structure sends a rather clear message (I liken it to a giant middle finger) to the people on the other side of our Southern border: You are not welcome here.

Our Southern border is nearly 2,000 miles. About 1,300 miles of the border run through the Rio Grande River. The remaining 700 of those miles are on land, most of which include some type of fencing or wall. There are also technological barriers in place, including sensors, lights, cameras, and drone surveillance. 

Interestingly, the Canadian border is over twice as long - it's actually the longest international border in the world - and entirely on land, and yet contains not a single foot of wall or any kind of significant fencing. Parts of the border are marked, though, with petunias. I guess we like Canadians (because they're white??). (Fun note: a few of my fellow PC volunteers put Canadian pins on their backpacks while traveling in South America as Canadians are more welcome there than Americans. Americans have something of a bad reputation, especially as tourists.)

The wall itself is largely ineffective. It's symbolic, more than anything. Those motivated find it easy enough to pass. It can be climbed, scaled, cut through, or worked around. What is harder to work around, though, is the technological barriers. 

Last time I visited Nogales, Mexico, I was at a shelter located on a hill that directly oversaw the border wall. I watched as three guys with a rope ladder who were walking along the wall, suddenly paused, pitched the ladder up, and began climbing. It took them less than thirty seconds to get to the top. On the other side of the wall, Border Patrol vans were already on their way. How had they gotten there so quickly? Bad luck, maybe, but I believe they saw the guys approaching and had been keeping an eye on them. The guys in question ended up climbing back down on the Mexican side.

The wall - that doesn't work - has cost billions and billions of taxpayer dollars.

It's not only the dollar cost that is concerning. The wall has divided communities. Tainted sacred, ancestral land. Endangered wildlife. Interrupted migrating species. Poisoned water sources. Increased the likelihood of flooding in some areas.

It was built without any concern for the consequences on those who live there, people or animals alike.

When I argued against the wall during Trump's presidency, I got a lot of flak from people within the church who stated we needed the wall to keep our own people safe, and that taking care of our own was more important than any other potential consequences or cost. Certainly, more important than the people seeking refuge on our shores.

At the time, it surprised me. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t see what I saw - which was that God was at work in the people at the border and we needed to be there. This, "take care of our own" philosophy didn't feel very Christian. Where was that in the Bible?

But as I reflected on it later, I realized I should not have been surprised at all. After all, the Church has been building walls for years.

In a previous blog, I mentioned how we have used the exclusive claims of Christianity to keep people out, rather than to welcome people in. We build walls, rather than bridges. We tell people, either directly or indirectly, either overtly or subtly, this is what you must look like, or behave like, or be like, in order to be welcomed here. And those who don’t fit within that box, are pushed out or made to feel unwelcome.

There’s a common adage within the Evangelical church: love the sinner and hate the sin. We may need to ask ourselves - is this building a bridge, or building a wall?

First, we should have a moment of introspection. After all, the Bible says we are all sinners. All of us. Even Billy Graham and Mother Teresa and anyone else we hold up on a pedestal. None of us are exempt. Labeling a certain person or group of people as "sinners" while not seeing it in ourselves is hypocritical and prideful.

How much do we hate the sin in ourselves? Do we work diligently to eliminate sin in our own lives? To single it out, call it out, weed it out, get rid of it? Or, is our own sin too easy for us to overlook or to rationalize away ("no one is perfect")? Do we think that our sin is somehow less important than the sin we see in others?

Do we believe God loves us in spite of our sin? Why then might we not believe that of others?

Second, we need to consider: is it possible to truly love the sinner if we hate their sin? In other words, can we truly love our neighbor if we are judging them? Or are we building walls, keeping people away from God?

I had a friend once who told me she was surprised when initially invited to church, as at the time she was living in a way contrary to Christian beliefs. She didn't expect to be welcomed there. The people of the church, however, not only welcomed her but loved on her so much that she had an encounter with God. After she committed herself to following Him, she began to feel a stirring in her heart. In her words, she told me, "No one had to tell me that the way I was living was wrong. God impressed upon me to change my ways, and I did. It was hard, but He brought me so much joy and peace."

No one had to "hate her sin". No one had to point fingers at her or look down their noses at her or confront her behavior. All they had to do was love her, welcome her, accept her... and let God do His work.

We are so quick to point out sin in other people. In the way they dress, or in their tattoos, or in their gender expression, or in the words they use, or whatever else we sneer at. We build walls of judgement. Walls that keep people from God.

Let's think a moment about Jesus. He was constantly judged for hanging out with "sinners". He hung out with the people the religious leaders had built walls (literally around the temple as well as figuratively) to keep out. They feared the "sinners" would contaminate God's people.

Jesus had no such concerns. He talked to "sinners", approached them, welcomed them, let them sit at His table and at His feet. He went into their homes. He accepted their worship. Even welcomed them as disciples.

Jesus accepts first. Loves first. Welcomes first.

And then He says, "Go and sin no more." 

Encounters with Jesus change people.

Encounters with religious, judgmental Christians might change people, too, ... but not in a good way.

What does that mean? I wonder if it doesn’t mean, we stop worrying so much about how other people sin and worry more about our own sin. If it means, we love without conditions. If it means, we welcome everyone to church. Everyone. If it means, we trust God to deal with their hearts.

Just as we trust Him with our own.