The Litmus Test: How well do we LOVE those who differ?

One of the most surprising things happened to me while we lived in France. Around the dinner table, for hours at a time, we argued with our French friends. They argued with us and with each other. And then we loved each other, kissed each cheek, and went along our days.

At first it really bothered me. How dare my friends question my politics in such a vehement manner? How could they be so direct? And yet, in the aftermath of the conversation, sidle up next to me, kiss both cheeks and joyfully continue being my friend?

That's when I realized that Americans argue differently. The French tend to argue to understand, to share a part of themselves, to put things out on the table, to stimulate a lively discussion. Sometimes they'd play devil's advocate just to stir the pot. I'm not saying this is right or wrong, just different.

Here when folk argue, there has to be a "right" person. In order for that person to be "right," he/she has to decimate the other person's opinion. There's inherent fear behind everything. If I'm not "right," then something about me must be wrong. Therefore, I must find blame in the other person's way of looking at things so I can feel secure. Right.

I've been this way. I've been deeply insecure about my opinions to the extent that I felt I needed to undermine other people's opposite opinions just to feel okay. Hopefully I'm growing. Hopefully I'm seeing that life is far too complex and opinions too multi-layered to have such a black and white perspective. And through all that, I think about Jesus.

We see Jesus hanging out with people who had vastly different lifestyles than what was considered "holy" in His day. Tax collectors and sinners flocked to Him. He seemed to invite them near. Children ran to His irresistibility. He was not afraid of their opinions. He always spoke the truth, but seasoned with grace. He kept his harshest, most pointed words for those who appeared religious but were hypocritical, but he kept an invitational stance to the masses. So much so that thousands of people followed Him.

My question: Do We represent the irresistability of Jesus when we talk to people who differ from us? Would Jesus yell at someone who differed in her political opinion? Would He lash out? Would He scream? Does hollering and pouting and stirring up fear represent Jesus' manner of doing things?

Consider this wisdom from the Proverbs, remembering that Jesus is Wisdom personified:

"An arrogant man stirs up strife, but he who trusts in the Lord will prosper" (Prov. 28:25).

"A fool always loses his temper, but a wise man holds it back" (Prov. 29:11).

And then from the book of James:

"This you know, my beloved brethren. But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger; for the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God" (James 1:19-20).

It is my contention that we are more winsome like Jesus when we listen. When we hold back our temper, when we choose not to stir up strife for the sake of proving our "correctness." Our job is not to convince others of their wrongness and our rightness. It's not to change people's hearts. (We did not create anyone's hearts as far as I know. Only God can change a heart.) Our job is to represent Jesus, how He talked, how He acted, how He loved.

We should be so settled in His love for us that very little threatens us. That very little shakes us up. We know how to entrust ourselves to God. We know how to wrestle. We know how to trust.

I fear that so many of us (me included) have created a religion out of materialism, substituting it for our relationship with God. And when our "god" of happiness and material success is threatened, we take it as an attack. Why live in that kind of fear? Why worry needlessly about the future? Doesn't Jesus say that we have enough worry for the day? Do we truly believe He is in control? If we do, why all the anger? Other people's opinions cannot dethrone the beauty and power of God.

The litmus test is this: (for me, for you) How well do I love those who differ from me?

I'd venture to say that God will not hold us accountable as much for our political bent or fervor as much as He'll call us to account for the way we love those who hold a different view.