Digging in Like Rizpah

I almost walked out of Sunday School last week, but I stayed. I stayed because I knew I would never be back if I got up and left. To the church or somewhere else, I do not know. So, I stayed. I stayed and tried to speak reasonably about something I wanted to flip a table on. I felt incredibly out of place during a discussion about defending our specific expression of Christianity in American culture. Yes, the credentialed minister, the deacon’s wife, the homeschool mom struggled to stay.

I wonder how many people have been in my shoes at that moment. How many stayed? How many got up and left?

The Olympics have been blowing up my Facebook newsfeed. Unfortunately, it’s not been full of incredible athletic feats, but of friends holding up digital picket signs. A few days ago, it was the picture many assumed mocked the Last Supper. This morning, the DSD female boxer with male chromosomes.

Several small things, like these instances of social media outrage, eventually lead to deep thinking and big decisions. Someone’s reactions to what they see and feel from online posts make up a few examples of those small things.

I do not necessarily think this point is a wrong place to be. These moments are provided to bring us closer to God’s heart if we let them. So, here I am, asking myself: “How can I walk this out, showing love for the Church and the lost? How can I hedge myself in with truth, mercy, love, and compassion when those pivotal elements of the Good News seem so far away? Am I speaking up when I should? What should I do with this storm of righteous indignation brewing inside me? How do I see things so differently from those raised in the church when I’ve been in it for 21 years?”

I don’t have answers, but I do have ideas. They’re easier to digest than answers, anyway. So, if you would like to hear them and even share yours, read on. If you only want to give me answers, I respectfully suggest you move on.

The book I have been writing for years focuses on a woman briefly mentioned in the Old Testament: Rizpah. She was one of King Saul’s concubines. Two of her sons were killed to pay retribution for their father’s actions toward the Gibeonites. You can read about her in 2 Samuel 21.

After they were hung, their bodies were left suspended in the air, and they were not given a proper burial. Rizpah spreads out her sackcloth and camps out in front of their dead bodies. She chases the birds and wild beasts away from them and appeals to David for their proper burial. Months pass, and she remains steadfastly crying out for the next king to do what’s right. She cries out for justice. There’s already been famine in the land for three years, yet she remains. She doesn’t get up and leave.

Aiah’s daughter Rizpah took funeral clothing and spread it on a rock. She stayed there from the beginning of the harvest until the rains poured down on the bodies from the sky, and she wouldn’t let any birds of prey land on the bodies during the day or let wild animals come at nighttime. 2 Samuel 21:10, Common English Bible (CEB), 2011.

Notice that she remains.

            I can’t help but imagine how others must have viewed her. Some probably thought she was crazy; others could have assumed she was vying for the throne. Some may have thought she had it coming to her for all of her life’s choices. Yet, in Rizpah’s world, it didn’t matter. She remained until she was finally heard.

Although I am not chasing literal wild beasts and birds away from those things I consider most sacred, this picture still speaks to me. After all of these years, I come back to Rizpah. I argue with the doubt in my mind about my purpose, what I know is right, and justice, and I dig my heels in to stay grounded on the rock until God sends rain.

Rizpah was not the only grieving mother in the text, and her sons were not the only ones sacrificed for someone else’s unrighteous sin. I am encouraged by her faithfulness, adamant demeanor, and steadfast grit. When I dig my butt in the pew when everything in me wants to scream, it’s like I drive my tent stake in a little further. Then I remember that I am called to remain, but not to any one specific place. No, I am called to remain with my sackcloth pitched up like a tent and the solid rock beneath me.

As the old timers say, I know that I know that I know that I am to remain. I am to stay grounded for the honor of those I love and for those who stay and do not cry out: the voiceless, the hushed. And, I believe that the Lord will, one day, bring justice.

            Everyone sees the world through their own lenses, formed by their experiences, thoughts, feelings, brain-chemistry make-up, etc. The environments we’re raised in influences our worldview. Our families, social structures, cultural ethics, interpretations of the Holy Scripture, and experiences with people who are different from us and those who are more like us shape our lives and opinions.

Unfortunately, the beauty that the Lord intended to be revealed in diversity through the unity of the Body of Christ, His Church, has been lost in our attempts to present a uniform approach in the name of Christianity. Let’s be more careful when sharing our faith so we don’t lose the beauty of our original, uniquely individual design. Unity comes by embracing the diversity we were all created to have, not by making everyone look and believe the same way. The road is narrow, but the road is Jesus, not our opinions about Him or each other.

Political movements and revolutions do not typically occur without a unifying brand. It begs the question: Are we more about kingdoms now or the kingdom to come? We are told we do not fight as the world, and yet, in an attempt to stand for some specific belief, history seems to be repeating itself. If we only knew how much! Our brand has become mainstream evangelical Christianity. It’s been reduced to nicely fit on our picket signs, our nationalism banners, and our political flags. Our black-and-white, simple, obviously clear, and easy-to-understand ethical stances have no room for color, let alone gray areas! There are clear lines in the sand that can be drawn with our crusading approach; you’re either with us or against us. Us vs. Them. We are the ones who are in the light and right, and they are the wrong ones who are not enlightened. It’s tragic.

Although she has been challenging to hold onto at times, I still have hope. I still see a cloud in the distance. I still believe that the rains will come. I still believe justice will one day reign. To remain, I need the staying power of Rizpah, who appeals to her new king. (Notice that she doesn’t have to go to the enemy’s camp, she appeals to the king).

I see Christ in her in the Old Testament, and through her story, I feel Christ in me rising up, the hope of glory (Colossians 1). I am praying the Lord to use me as a Paul, with all of my Peter-like tendencies, to boldly address the issues that cause division in the body of Christ.

Unity in the body, His church, is messy. It doesn’t present well on a picketing sign or banner in black and white. The banner we are to live, move, and have our being in is a banner of all colors, shades, and opinions. It’s a banner of mercy and love. The veil that draws line in the sand between us and them and Him has been torn. I picture it now like it’s a banner that He waves over us. We have no right to wave banners of condemnation over anyone as long as we claim to follow Christ. My guess is that the kingdom will be more inclusive than we are comfortable with, so we must learn to dig in when we want to abandon hope. We will have to learn to dig in when the wild beasts come to devour that which is sacred.

This leads me to share my thoughts. I believe that these subjects are worthy of respectful conversations that would benefit everyone. I hate to call them pet peeves; there must be a better word. Grievances? Stumbling blocks? Hot topics? Well, you get the point. My list won’t be foreign to those who have followed me for long. The way we approach our conversations having to do with sinners sinning, abortion, sexuality, gender, politics, theological differences, and cultural distinctions all top my list.

• Sinners sin, and we shouldn’t be surprised when they do. How did the Lord lead the early church to live in light of the sinful practices plaguing the culture of their day? Are we applying the same principles?
• I had an induced miscarriage/abortion when I was 19 years old. I was already a single mom and had turned to drugs to try to stop it on my own. I wasn’t raised with the same ethical upbringing so many people had in our fundamentalist, Bible-belt churches that hold to the “literal Word of God” here in the Midwest. I felt more love from the homosexual couple I stayed with that weekend during one of the hardest moments of my whole life than I feel in churches when unsympathetic preachers condemn the mothers who face such extreme circumstances. I dig my heels in hard as a Rizpah when these moments arise. 1 in 4 women has had a unique experience/situation regarding abortion. That means there are women in your church who are likely digging their heels in to stay, and some will not. Instead, they will get up, leave, and never return. If you can’t approach the topic with as much compassion for the mothers and fathers who are still living as you do their dead children, don’t speak until you value their lives as much as the lives you picket for. Lastly, church culture is different than worldly culture. In some ways, it is good; in other ways, not so much. If you want to love people well, learn to share the Gospel so they can see Jesus and not hear condemnation through your specific communication style. It’ll take work, but they’re worth the extra effort.
• Intersex/DSD/Gender debate. Good Lord. Yes, there are biological differences between males and females. However, there are a lot more than we realize! There are as many people born with confusing medical issues that challenge their acceptance of one or the other sex as there are people with Cystic Fibrosis. No wonder these people hide and don’t feel comfortable in the church. I can’t help but think that when we choose not to learn about people who challenge our understanding of sex differences, we refuse to embrace humility, and we refuse to be teachable. Spend a week or two researching how people born with these differences have had to live their lives and come to terms with their own identity. Then we can talk about the way we’ve defended our sacred cows has prevented them from seeing the God who made them. Did God not knit them together in their mother’s womb?

After we respectfully discuss all of that, perhaps we could also bring up being more inclusive of those with disabilities. I pray one day we will be able to have these conversations respectfully. I have so many other ideas about how to settle some of our issues, but I digress.

I prefer to wrap up my thoughts with a shiny, pretty bow. This will not be one of those posts because I don’t have answers. I have ideas that continue to plague my thoughts, challenge me, and cause me to grow. I admit that I am not fully mature, but I am trying. I’m wrestling like Jacob did with God, and I will make it after I dig in a little longer, even if it means I walk with a limp for the rest of my days. I encourage you to do likewise.