When We Disagree

Today I feel disheartened. And it is not by the fact that as I write this, I am waiting for my pulse to slow. It’s near 200, I think. It sets my upper body to a gentle rocking and puts little catches in my breath. Robert and I went out for a walk at 5:30 this morning, and perhaps it was too much for me, panting already, just out the driveway, but I was determined to keep going. Surprisingly, Host

brother Ben was in the hospital for the same thing this week, but he got anesthesia and the paddles for his flat-lining. His was at 230

(we compared notes). Mine is only 190, so he wins on both counts. We can be the second set of twins in this family now, except he has all the hair. One would not expect tachycardia to be contagious, would one, but what do the doctors really know? Maybe we can be in adjoining rooms for our surgeries.

No. I am not disheartened by this but by a matter of the soul. The other day, Robert was discussing, with some people whom he respects, a topic about which they disagree. The fact that they disagree is not important. Robert disagrees with lots of people, as you know, and he and I disagree a lot, too, and we stay married, happily. I have to tell you this story: Once I was driving, and Sister Diana sat beside me holding the map (uh huh, a long time ago). We disagreed on where to turn. As the driver, I made the final call, and she kept protesting,

and I said, “Sister. It’s ok. We aren’t going to agree. That is why it is called a disagreement.” She stopped. Although she doesn’t remember the incident (I checked; I told her now I get to paint it however I want), I think a light went on there, because when we disagree now, she can let things drop, agree to disagree, and still call me sister. I love how Luke tells us about how Paul and Barnabas, two great missionaries, had sharp words during their disagreement, and parted ways in ministry, yet still considered one another holy brothers. They didn’t doubt each other’s faith, just, perhaps, each other’s sanity. We don’t have to work together. We have to live together. As family.

--interlude for going to ER for further flatlining by old friend, Bald Doctor, and same horrible choking feeling; I know the drill now--

Because this heart issue does not distress me as much as this matter of the soul.

I think that the problem does not come when we disagree. The problem comes when we judge the heart, or the motives, or the health of someone’s faith when we disagree. I think it is especially disheartening when people’s hearts get judged according to the ideas in their heads. Let me explain. When Jesus called people, he never called them to a checklist of truths but rather to a Person. “I am the truth,” he said. “Come, follow me. Come, pick up your cross, and follow me.” He always called people into a relationship with him. And when they responded, he rejoiced. When they turned toward him, he ran out to meet them like any Prodigal Father. If there was the barest lift of a face to call on Him, He was all over it. It’s all about being in relationship with this Man, the One and Only Son and Revealer of God, the One and Only Saviour of the world. It was never about a list.

Think about who was praised in Scripture for their faith: Abraham.

Who knew practically nothing about God except that He spoke in the night, showed up for supper, and commanded him to do unfathomable things. Kids. Who knew practically nothing about the Kingdom, except that they really, really liked JESUS! Abraham and the child on Jesus’ lap were never evaluated on their doctrine but on their love and obedience. The same goes for us. Can we give a 54-year-old the same grace we give a 4-year old? Can we focus with joy on the ways people turn toward God instead of carefully measuring their progress in the other direction?

 So I am disheartened when friends set me on a slippery slope to hell and assign me a cancer of the soul when we are both in love with the Saviour of the World but disagree on other things. Because hell is not just a place, but a condition of the soul that rejects God, that deems Him a liar, and says, “not your will but mine be done.” And heaven is a not just a place, but a condition that makes the soul say in all joy, “God, do your will here. Do it now. Start with me!” So when you judge a sister—me—by telling me that I am risking hell for what I think, I wonder, when did you hear my soul shut God away? Did you see this thing in my actions? Did you hear it in my words, this utter rejection of God’s will in my life? Because somehow I just don’t think it’s up to you to decide if I am “in,” or if I am “out.” Brother, sister of mine, with whom I sharply disagree.