Cancel Culture and the Gospel

Cancel Culture and the Gospel
Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

 

These days, as I said in my last post, I avoid social media most of the time. It’s just not good for my soul. Every once in a while though I will jump on Twitter and see what’s trending. All too often, I see a hashtag that includes the word, “cancel.”

We like to cancel people these days. More often than not, it’s a comment or an action from that person that offends in some way. Sometimes it’s justified-we need to call out wrong behavior.

But more often than not, it seems, it’s something that person simply didn’t think through well enough before it happened; if they had, they might have refrained.

Worse yet, maybe it happened years ago. Decades ago, even. Back when their brains weren’t fully developed, or before they carried the cultural gravitas they have now. Back when they were unknown, or before they changed their mind on an issue (yes, we can change our minds and our behavior). Certainly, before everyone’s every movement could be documented and displayed for the world to see.

But too late! It doesn’t matter when or why, it’s in the world now, and enough to make a blanket judgment about you. You are voted off the island, eliminated from the crowd, erased from existence. And not only you, but anyone associated with you.

I’m all for holding people accountable for their words and actions. There’s a growing recognition that much of what happens in our society has been and continues to be damaging to many. That must change. On certain issues, we cannot remain silent or we add to the problem.

But this idea that we will cancel someone because of one moment-this I cannot reconcile with the gospel.

Cancel Culture in the Bible

Cancel culture paints the world in black and white. You are good or bad, weighed on a scale. You tip out of favor with one wrong move, and there’s no coming back from it. The gavel has come down and you are irreversibly in the “bad” category.

The good/bad split doesn’t account for the reality that we are complex people, capable of great blessing and harm, each of us. It doesn’t account for redemption. It doesn’t recognize the gospel.

I think of Zaccheus. There’s a man we would cancel today. He betrayed his own people in his job as a tax collector. The woman caught in adultery? Canceled. Peter denying Jesus three times? Canceled.

When we don’t have the lens of the gospel, it makes sense that we would cancel. We create our own moral code, a tenuous assumption of goodness until we prove otherwise. The world waits with its scarlet C, ready to judge.

The Gospel of Grace

But the gospel says there is redemption. There is hope for those who fail. Grace for the fallen. New life after the wrong-doing. It says our goodness isn’t measured on a scale, that forgiveness is possible, and change can happen.

The gospel says there is no one good, not one. Instead, there is One who has come and done what we cannot do-wiped the slate clean, broken the scales, torn the veil that separates us from love and acceptance and freedom from top to bottom.

Don’t think I’m suggesting we not call people out on their sin. There is good accountability, a higher standard being raised in areas long excused. That is important.

But in all ways and at all times, we are called to treat people as Jesus did and does.

What would Jesus say to the person today who commits a cancel-worthy crime?

Jesus Doesn’t Cancel Us

I think of the woman caught in adultery, of Zaccheus, of Peter. I think of how Jesus responded to them. He did not excuse their sin. He knew exactly what they had done.

But in his response to them, there was no shame. There was no dismissal of them as people. He looked straight at them with compassion. He clearly acknowledged their sin and then invited them away from it.  There was hope for restoration.

And restoration happened. Zaccheaus paid back all he took and then some. Peter became the foundation of the church. Jesus calls out sin, and then He calls us out of it into new life.

With the gospel, there is hope. With cancel culture, there is only condemnation. It goes against our sense of justice, but in God’s eyes, no one is unredeemable.

We ought to hold people accountable for their actions. Sin should be acknowledged. We must invite people to repentance. And yes, that might mean consequences-loss of position or influence. But it should not involve condemnation. Shame has no place in the gospel.

God Doesn’t Cancel Us

Full disclosure? I’ve been afraid to write this post. So many times I’ve seen people take issue with something a writer says or does, and the result is, “We aren’t going to read anything she writes anymore,” as though that one comment or action negates all the goodness or truth that person has written. I fear being canceled.

But I don’t want to live under that tyranny. I hope I never sin against someone in what I write. It’s possible I might ignorantly offend. If that happens, I would hope someone would come to me and invite me to repentance. I would hope for the opportunity to set things right.

May we be like Him, speaking truth to sin, but with a kind call to turn from that sin. After all, it’s His kindness that leads to repentance, not shame.

God never cancels us.

“Jesus straightened up and asked her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ ‘No one, sir,’ she said. “Then neither do I condemn you,’ Jesus declared. ‘Go now and leave your life of sin.'” John 8:10-11

 

Related posts:

Whatever Happened to Sin?

Either/Or Thinking in a Both/And World

 

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Redeemed . . . or . . . DIYing Again

DIY Bench

For weeks, Erik and I have intended to continue our DIY activity by making a bench out of the reclaimed dock wood we have. We kept having this conversation:

Gina: We should make the bench.
Erik: Do you have a plan for it?
Gina: Yes!
Erik: Where?
Gina: In my head.
Erik: Could you write it down?
Gina: (blink. blink.)

It finally dawned on Erik that when he said, “plan” what he meant was “detailed schematics of how this bench will be structurally sound” and what I meant was, “vague idea of cool looking bench, probably held together by nails and magic.”

So he made his own plan. And it was good, as you can see from the picture.

I love doing this. I love taking something others have discarded as worthless and making something new from it. Not something perfect – there will always be flaws, but that’s part of the beauty of it. That’s what makes it one of a kind. It can still be something useful, something good, something that gives life.

I love it because it is a picture of redemption. We all have places, moments, chapters, in our lives, that we could count as wasted. Worthless. Ruined.

God isn’t close to finished with them. In fact, that’s where He starts. He takes our broken places and our discarded moments and our lost chapters and he makes something new. These are the places from which we have the greatest potential to give life to others.

What a great gift – anything can be redeemed. Old dock wood. Us. It’s all good.

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