My friendships have taken various layers over the years. Due to my theological and academic journey, I have accumulated voices from every Christian tradition ranging from Evangelical to Eastern Orthodox. Further, I have maintained decent and even strong relationships with folks who think differently politically. I have friends–and by friends, I refer to men who would open their houses to host me today if I inquired–who have drifted into leftist journeys in the last few years but with whom I could interact and share a drink and enjoy my time. Our lives would take diametrical terms if we lived too close to one another, but still, our gatherings would be a thing to behold.
I could easily enjoy the fellowship of a Tim Keller and some PCA ministers with whom I would disagree vehemently on issues pertaining to race and political inclinations. I could also gladly interact with folks in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions. I also have dear friends in the Lutheran tradition with whom I share much in common. And a hearty gratitude to the Lutherans for their beer and hymns. We salute you.
I mention this array of interactions as proof of my desire for catholicity. But I also add my strong commitment to a caffeinated Reformation that is bound to make lots of folks uncomfortable, and they may gladly say “pass” when it comes to interactions with me. Doug Wilson refers to it as “Chestertonian Calvinism.” Sign me up! I will reciprocate acts of mutuality and enjoy the common good with those who think I spend too much time in Geneva, but I am not eager to push too far in these engagements because I know there is an ultimate good that surpasses the immediate good.
I am especially self-aware and consequently allergic to the tendency among many to atomize communions, making them enclaves of ultra-orthodoxy. I am less inclined to dwell among those and disinterested in formulating in their midst.
One of the many concerns I have–even recently–is with those who would imprint labels of “heretics” upon those whose lives are an investment in grace upon grace and whose fruit in 30-40 years have looked like garden vistas rather than desecrated ghettos. You shall know them by their fruits, and when their fruits lead to hyper-isolationism because no one else matched their pajamas, I am, properly speaking, “out.”
This is why it is much easier these days to commune with good Baptist folks who see the battle for what it is than to commune with Presbyterians who may share my own theological inclinations but whose political meanderings leave me speechless.
When Israel feasted, they feasted with enthusiasm because they shared a common enemy. They knew the war ahead had a target and that we all share a common vision of the common good and those things which destroyed the common good. Similarly, there will be greater friendship and feasting alongside those who share liturgical and political goals in common, and while the others can share a display of commonality, there will always be degrees of friendship.
The principle is, “Who do you feast with?” “Whose presence offers you a rhythm of shared rituals and telos that make that presence ever more meaningful, conversations ever more enriching, and goodbyes ever more saddening?”
These, ultimately, are the people with whom you build alliances and strategies and with whom you build a community around.
Every man/woman should have a circle of influence and fellowship, but the brothers in arms are those who are closer and whose voices harmonize with the reason for feasting and who see the enemy rightly.
