I Am Guilty of Cancel Culture

Here’s an interesting question: If it were possible, would you choose to have your political party to be the political party? Like, the majority in every state, in every election, for every candidate? 

Or how about this one: If it were possible, would you want every church to be a part of your denomination? So that every Christian ascribed to your doctrinal statement, worshipped like you do, had a building like yours?

There was a time when I would have enthusiastically answered Yes! My political position was the best for society. My denominational beliefs were the closest to Scripture. So for the good of all mankind, it would just make sense if everyone believed the same things as me. It might just usher in some kind of utopia.

In fact, I was so convinced of my rightness that I really wasn’t interested in hearing dissenting opinions. Reading something that opposed what I believed got me agitated, and, I would discover, even a bit hostile. It was easier to just shut those voices out of my life. I would take those blogs out of my feed. I would unfollow those people on Facebook. I would only read books that I knew I would agree with. I would avoid certain topics of discussion with certain people.

I was, essentially, canceling them.

Cancel culture is defined as “a modern form of ostracism in which someone is thrust out of social or professional circles – either online on social media, in the real world, or both.” Since Christians and conservatives are often the ones who are canceled by the media and universities, we often feel the brunt of this blacklisting. But what I hadn’t considered is that I was guilty of doing the same thing.

Moving overseas marked the beginning in my change of thinking. No longer was I able to find a church that believed all the same things I did. I remember the first time I made friends with a co-worker who was “charismatic.” In my circles, she would have been deemed a heretic. Lo and behold, she was a devoted follower of Jesus and committed to Scripture. In fact, her passion in prayer and her faith in God’s power surpassed my own. Not only was she not a heretic, I actually had things to learn from her. My 24-year-old mind was blown. I learned from Tanzanian Christians that American Christianity didn’t have all the answers. I attended a Vineyard Church, an Assemblies of God church, and a Presbyterian Church. In each, I encountered new ways of knowing and experiencing God. In each, my faith was stretched and strengthened. 

I met Europeans who saw politics differently from me. I had a conversation with a young, Christian, Danish man who passionately believed in socialism. Students from Finland told me about their free college education. I even became friends with a Ukrainian who told me about the pros and cons of growing up under Communism. I’m still a fan of capitalism, but I realized that the merits of that system weren’t as straightforward as I had assumed. Adoption taught me to view pro-choice women with more empathy. Listening to non-white friends helped me to see how white privilege is a real thing. Liberal-leaning articles made me realize that conservative Christians have often neglected the biblical mandates of creation care, protection for refugees, and racial equality. 

What I recognized was that things weren’t as black and white as I once thought they were. And what I discovered is that there is a whole lot of wisdom available from listening to others’ beliefs.

Let me be clear here: I believe in absolute truth. I am not a syncretist, a relativist, or a post-modernist. I firmly believe that truth exists and can be found. However, I also believe that my mind is imperfect. My worldview is influenced by my culture, my beliefs are tainted by my desires, and I possess a fair degree of pure foolishness. I hate being wrong. I often cling to beliefs purely because I hate being wrong. The combination of my own faulty thinking along with my strong belief in truth is what has made me recognize how important it is to learn from those who think differently from me.

I’ve had to ask myself, What am I afraid of? When I come across an alternative belief, political party, or theology, what is it that causes me to be so agitated? When I dig deep, I realize that I am afraid that they might be right. And that feels unthinkable, unacceptable. It is easier to get mad than to entertain the terrifying thought that I could be wrong.

But this is where I’ve had to remind myself that if truth is what I am seeking, then I have nothing to be afraid of. I don’t want to stay in the Matrix; I choose the red pill. If I am wrong about politics, or abortion, or vaccines, or speaking in tongues, or baptism, or mask-wearing, or even the Bible or God himself–then I want to know. I’m not interested in believing things just to make me feel good about myself or the choices I have made. I want to believe things because they are true. 

This means I need to be willing to follow truth wherever it leads, no matter the cost to my pride or my way of life. This means that many of my beliefs have been refined over time. The more willing I am to engage in thinking that is different from my own, the more I realize that I might not have been as right as I thought I was. I have no need to cancel any person or any theology or any way of thinking. If truth is true, then I don’t need to be threatened by the challenges. In fact, they make me a better thinker and a better person.

And this is where I get back to my original question. Would I ever want to see America become a one-party country? Would I ever want to see every Christian believe exactly the same things as I do? No way. That’s totalitarianism. That’s a church that burns heretics. What’s disturbing is that totalitarianism starts with morality. It’s the idea that imposing one way of thinking is going to be morally better for everyone, so it’s worth the cost of canceling the opposition. This is terrifying to us when the opposition is in power. We just don’t consider how terrifying it would be if we were in power, too.

In a fallen world, we need opposition. Because our thinking will always be flawed, criticism, debate, and resistance are necessary to make us a healthy society and a healthy church. We shouldn’t be afraid of it; we should welcome it. They may cancel us, but we should never cancel them. As the great truth-teller himself once said, The truth will set us free.