We Turned the Cross Into a Sword

There's a significant difference between a cross on a shield, a cross hanging on the wall, and a real-life cross used for crucifixion. The first is an image to rally a fight, the second is an image to provide comfort, and the third is an instrument of suffering. And it turns out that the way we see the cross has dramatic consequences. Here's how Jesus invited His followers to think of the cross:

If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it. (Mark 8:34-35)

I read that as a beautiful invitation to submit our lives for the benefit of others. I've found that the Gospel is only good news for others when it costs us something first, and here Jesus is literally inviting us to live out a metaphorical death to ourselves as we bring good news to the world. When Christians actually live like this, it changes history.

But you and I both know that Christians often don't live like this.

It's a sad irony that the First Crusade used the passage above as its motivation. As the author John Dickson writes in his book Bullies and Saints:

In France in the eleventh century the key public interpretation of this passage—and it was a favourite passage—was that able-bodied Christian men should bear the cross of fighting against the enemies of Christ. The very word “Crusade” comes from the Latin crux or “cross,” referring to this ceremony of taking up the sacred emblem.

This wasn't a simple misreading but a theological rationalization by people who believed they were right and needed to rationalize their desire to fight. They turned Jesus' invitation to lay down your life for the Gospel into an invitation to fight others for the Gospel. And this same temptation continues to plague Christians even today.

Hemant Mehta writes a Substack called The Friendly Atheist, and he recently wrote about the perception many Christians have of being victimized by our culture. One section in particular stood out to me:

If people see Christianity as a negative trait these days, it’s because that animosity has been earned. We don’t see Christianity as a bad thing for no reason—it’s because we’re constantly surrounded by evidence of how powerful Christians use their faith to hurt others.

As a Christian, this line stings. It also rings true to what I've seen around me. Any hope of moving forward requires us to acknowledge that we have earned the animosity. Mehta goes on to explain:

We’re not mad about Jesus. No one’s condemning the faith-based food pantries. We’re mad about misogyny and homophobia and hypocrisy and ignorance and incompetence. The instigators of the Culture Wars are acting like they were always just minding their own business when, in reality, they’re launching grenades all around them. They’re mad because their shitty beliefs lead to not being invited to Thanksgiving dinner, getting mocked and criticized by celebrities with larger platforms, and being the people the rest of us talk shit about when they’re not in the vicinity.

This criticism challenges us to ask the questions we often don't want to talk about. What are the effects of our Christianity on others? Greg Boyd has argued that since Christians follow a "God of persuasion rather than coercion, God also allows his people to act on him and to thereby condition the form his self-revelation takes" (Crucifixion of the Warrior God, Volume 2). Which means that because God values the relationship with people, God allows us to represent who God is to others... even if we do a bad job of it.

Christians have done countless good throughout history. But is that what people are seeing from us right now? Sadly, it seems we've taken our desire to win the culture wars to an entirely new level. The winning-for-spiritual-reasons language is now being regularly employed by our government leaders. As Casey Ryan Kelly, a professor of communications studies recently wrote, "If winning is the only goal, then war is, by profound inference, a game, a test of masculine fortitude." 

Consider our attacks on Iran as a case in point. There is a good vs evil narrative being employed by our leaders to justify the attacks in Iran. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth recently stated that "The only side that targets civilians is Iran," despite the fact that video evidence shows it was the U.S. that bombed a school where at least 168 children and 14 teachers were killed (source). Despite the actual evidence, the narrative is that we are the good guys and we have an obligation to fight the bad guys.

If we're honest, the posture many people see from Christians right now might likely be one of trying to win a battle. There's a big difference in sacrificing for the Gospel and fighting for the Gospel.

One might suggest that sometimes we need to fight for the Gospel. Certainly, we've seen this faithfully lived out by abolitionists, civil rights activists, and people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer who are willing to speak truth to power. I'd even argue we are uniquely in a season where this posture is often needed (see: Is the Church a Team or a Family?).

But the clarifying question is: Who pays the cost? These examples show people willing to suffer personally for the pursuit of justice. Conversely, crusades are always about making other people bleed.

Thankfully, beautiful pictures of the church continue to emerge as they have throughout history. It's why I'm hopeful even in this moment. When I talk with people who are curious and open to something better. When I see courage in standing up for vulnerable people. When I see people use their voice—often for the first time—to speak up against a system that harms people, even if it doesn't harm them personally.

Someone in our online community recently shared that her journey into a different version of her faith began after she decided to become a missionary. During the training, she heard statistics of how many people are going to hell unless missionaries like her convert them. In that moment, she questioned what kind of God would send all of those people to hell on those terms. She felt there must be something better, and decided not to become a missionary. She is now deconstructing and reconstructing her faith in deeper ways with the courage to go against the flow and see where Jesus will lead her.

Every time someone is willing to bear the cost of the cross themselves rather than impose it on others, there is reason to hope. If we find ourselves in a fight, it's a good reminder for Christians that we are the ones who should bleed.

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