We are more informed than ever. We are more confused than ever. Let's call that "the fray".
My wife and I had an interesting conversation a couple of days back where she recounted what a 50-something grandmother told her about being a parent. It was one of those "back in my day" comments, but it offered a lot of insight. It had something to do with the amount of stress modern parents tend to be under while they are raising kids. It was something she hadn't experienced when she raised her own children.
It's not hard to figure out why that's the case. In days gone by, there were only a few sources of input; a few "experts" you would turn to for your parenting: Your mom. Your aunt. Your grandma. Your older sister. If you were an over-achiever you'd read a book or two. And that was it. Today, everybody and their mother thinks they are an expert on parenting, and there is no shortage of ways to be exposed to their opinion. At any given moment you have too many kids and too few, keeping them alive and killing them by the food you feed them, fostering attachment issues or loving them unconditionally, and protecting them or sheltering them. Of course it's not just parenting.
Today I spent an hour reading articles related to the recent bill passed in Indiana related to religious freedom. I expected partisan commentary as it relates to the content of the law, which may not make it any easier to figure out what to think about it, but at least I knew it was coming. What I didn't expect as much, and what was much more frustrating, was the mixed bag of supposed "experts" commenting on what Christians believe about politics and gay marriage in particular. Most of the articles–the mainstream ones, at least–were incendiary at best and downright incorrect at worst. They painted some negative portrait of the Christian perspective, only so that they could then articulate their view, the truly Christian one, the one that Jesus himself would surely have. It's no wonder we're confused. Everyone's an expert.
But then who am I? And why would I want to enter into that fray, as one more voice? Who cares anyway? And won't the only people who appreciate my input be the ones who already agree with me?
Of course, that's the nature of the "everyone's an expert" approach. Once everyone is an expert, no one is (you can say the same thing about superheros according to Syndrome from The Incredibles.) And if no one is an expert, if no one has some objective credibility or expertise on an issue other than the fact that they posted something on the internet, then in the end I'll just go with whatever opinion feels right. Most of the time, the one that tugs at my emotions the most. It's no wonder we're not willing to live in the "truth and love" tension that is Christianity. Living in that tension hurts. Period. And we don't like to hurt.
The reason I write, personally, is because I hope that there will be a renaissance of Christian thinkers who are willing to live in that tension of love and truth. Let's not treat Christian truths like we can just widdle off what we don't like; let's not also assume that we can simplify them into pre-packed tweets that can be blasted out to our followers. Let's not assume that theology doesn't impact real life and real people. Let's not assume that if truth is hard, it must not be truth at all, or must be something that's secondary to "love". Let's not assume that truth is contradictory: that if you believe marriage is between a man and a woman you must not know any gay people, or at very least you hate them if you do. Let's not assume that getting to know what God really thinks is easy, or that we can reduce it to simply how we feel at any given moment.
So I occasionally enter the fray and attempt to offer something worth thinking about. I try to treat issues like they aren't one-sided. As if there are people on the other end of the truth. And of course, as if the truth can be known.