Recently, the Supreme Court ruled that marriage is a constitutional right which states must extend to same-sex couples. For many people, this is a sign of hope and optimism, of progress and justice. For many others, it is perhaps not a surprise, but a cause for reflection and sadness on the direction our culture is progressing on much deeper issues than the definition of marriage. For some in both camps, it has been received as yet another call to arms–stand up for what you believe by bludgeoning back the opposition and exposing them for the pagans/bigots they are (depending on which side you stand on).

I want to see love win in this situation. And I wonder what that looks like exactly. I don’t think that love winning means that I require you to agree with me before I accept you or approve of your existence or enjoy your humanity. I don’t think it looks like you having to approve of everything about me (decisions, beliefs, etc.) before you are willing to enter into relationship with and associate with me. I sincerely hope it doesn’t look like two people sitting politely in a room, not talking about elephants because we’re afraid of each other or of the elephants. I also hope it doesn’t look like two people beating the elephant and forgetting that there’s a person on the other side–not just a human figure, but an actual person with thoughts and feelings and a story. There is a tendency with divisive topics for the conversation to center on the topic or the issue. I think maybe love winning looks more like the conversation focusing on people.

I took the terrifying step of asking about the elephant in the room with someone I care deeply about a few years ago. We had not talked much before because he was on the other side of the elephant. I knew I could not approve of his position on the issue of homosexuality. I knew he would not agree with mine. I was pretty sure he might reject me outright just for stating what my position was. But, you know what? I screwed up my courage and I asked if I could share my thoughts. And, the most amazing thing happened. He listened, and he responded. And then we were in a conversation and I was able to listen. It was a scary conversation at first, a bit like walking on ice. There is a certain inherent tension in these types of conversations, no matter how civil the tone, and tension is not something that is comfortable. But, I have come to realize, that I have to either choose to live with the tension, or I have to miss out on being in relationship. And I do not want to miss out on this relationship. I have probably learned more from the friendship than he has, but I think it has been encouraging for both of us.

I wrote the following poem/reflection/whatever back when I started my first elephant conversation. I wanted to sort through my fears and emotions, and to focus myself on a commitment to love no matter what. I am posting it again now to remind myself of what tone my conversations on this (or any hotly debated, controversial topic) should look like…you know, before I send off my next comment on someone’s status update. Because, it’s not about winning an argument or a debate. It’s about learning to understand and to share the love God has lavished on us in Christ–while we disagreed with Him, at the cross. And I want to remember what a gift in my life it has been to have a chance to know and to love the person on the other side of the elephant.

Love is a Puzzle

When I say I love you, what I mean is: I choose to look you in the face, see you, and put my arms around you—tight. And I will not let go.

It will be hard to look you in the face at times because you are not like me. There will be times when you do not look back or when I cannot find you behind your eyes. There will be times when I feel I am looking at a stranger and times when you do not see me for who I am. There will be times when I fail to look you in the eye for fear of rejection or confrontation or loneliness. There will be times when I do see you and do not like what I see. But, I will not let go.

It will be hard to hold on to you. There are tempests raging about, creating a wind tunnel between us. We will have to grip hard if we are to hold on to each other. And holding on will hurt because we do not fit together. We are not interlocking pieces, you and I; we are an unmatched pair. My edges and your edges will push and rub against each other, and some of them are sharp. As our arms try to embrace, our edges will push us apart. I will get bruised and cut, and sometimes I will blame you. Sometimes you may hurt me on purpose because I am uncomfortable to hold on to. But, I will not let go.

At some point, you may get angry or hurt or just tired, so you will let go and turn away with your smooth edge facing me. You will not have to look at me or get bruised this way, but you will not be able to see me or feel my love either.  I will have a harder time holding on to you because there will be less to hold on to, and I will be the only one holding on. But, I will not let go.

I will keep gripping you in the hope that one day you might turn back around so that I can see your face again. When you do turn back around, I will be amazed because I will look at you and see my own face. I will discover that the stranger I have been holding on to so tightly—with the sharp corners, the rough edges, and the parts I don’t like—is really me. And the arms that would not let go, even when you turned away, are not mine but God’s. I will look down at those arms and see the deep scars left by the nails He drove into them so that nothing could rip me out of His grip, even when I turn away. My own arms, I will find, have not in fact held you as they ought. I have pushed you and cut you, too, and I have let go at times. When I look back at you, I will not just see you anymore or my own reflection in your eyes. I will see Him, and I will understand how we are still holding on to each other in spite of everything because I will feel His arms holding us both. Then, with a new understanding and a new hope, I will look you in the eyes and say it again.

I love you.

So, what does it look like when love wins? I think it looks like people being able to discuss hard topics in a safe space because they choose to listen, to hear, to understand, and to accept the other person. For me, that means asking more questions than I seek to answer. It means being interested in someone’s experience and their conclusions, not because I would reach the same conclusions or so that I can custom-tailor my rebuttal, but because that journey is part of who they are and helps me understand how they got there. It means taking an interest in the whole person, and enjoying them as a person not an opponent. It means talking to learn, and to be close, not to convince or to expostulate. It means choosing to make the person and the relationship more important than the topic of conversation.

The overarching story of the Bible can be summed up as Love Wins. And, I think that the Holy Spirit is working that out in my own life, not just in my own salvation but in my interactions with others–even in conversations and relationships with people with whom I disagree. In fact, in some ways, I think that is where the gospel shines the brightest and where I learn the most about grace.God is not just concerned with our positions on issues. He is concerned with our posture toward the people He has created.

I Peter 3:15-16 “…but in your hearts, regard Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience…”

2 Timothy 2:23-24 “Have nothing to do with foolish and ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels. And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone…correcting his opponents with gentleness.”

As the dust settles and the ripples work their way outwards through public and private discussion, here’s hoping that love wins.