I’ve been working on this blog for a while now. I feel like the Lord put it on my heart a few weeks ago, and He’s been slowly speaking to me about His heart for this part of our American culture. 

 

For those of you who don’t know what I mean when I say “cancel culture,” allow me to shed some light on the topic. 

 

Cancel culture is a modern form of ostracism in which someone is thrust out of social or professional circles, either online or in the real-world or both. Those who are subject to this ostracism are said to be “cancelled.” 

Cancelling someone means to stop giving support to this person. Essentially, it’s boycotting a person who has done or said something found to be controversial, socially unacceptable, or questionable.

Those who are on the receiving end of cancel culture reap the consequences of loss of their reputation and/or income that can be almost impossible to recover from. 

 

This type of ostracism isn’t the “you can’t sit with us today” type of ostracism. It’s the “you will never be welcome at any table, ever” type of ostracism. 

This is extremism at it’s ugliest. It’s literally destroying people’s lives. And I truly believe that it breaks the heart of our Father. 

 

I sat down and had a conversation with fourteen 19-20 year old’s about their thoughts on this topic and what it felt like to be an American to them. 

 

You see, it’s not surprising to them or to me that Americans are some of the most rebellious and difficult people to lead in the world. America was literally formed by a group of “rebels” who were seen as extremists. It’s not shocking that extremism is intertwined in our culture still today. 

 

What is shocking is that we think it’s working for us. 

We are victims of mob-mentality. You see, I don’t actually think that people want to “cancel” others. People jump onto an idea and feel forced to choose a side in FEAR of being cancelled themselves. 

I also believe that Americans are some of the most empathetic people in the world. Some of the most generous and kind-hearted people. I think that we have never been taught how to steward our excess empathy. We deeply care for others and want to see love and kindness conquer. So we abuse or empathy in our quest for “justice.”

 

I think somewhere along the way, we have confused the idea of justice and equated it with suffering

When we seek justice, we want it immediately. Especially if the cause is something we have skin in the game with. 

It feels urgent to us. 

 

If it feels urgent and we begin to walk as panicked people, we miss the people that were trying to change in the process. Our urgency is leading us to panic and extremism. When really the people that need our empathy the most are the people who we have cancelled. 

Stay with me. I know I might have lost you there, but I promise I’m going somewhere you’ll like better than that. 

 

Redemption is a slow, methodical process. It’s not an overnight change. And I think we’ve lost the patience needed to allow people the time and process it takes to change. 

 

I believe that our path as followers of Christ is clear- take those who don’t know the way and make sure they do. 

Is it still possible for us to look at people on this planet and see them as people who were made to look like their Father? God doesn’t need us to defend our own greatness. Jesus came and could have easily started a revolution. Roman history is hands down the worst we’ve ever seen people treated in human history. Jesus’ era was literally PRIMED for a revolution. 

 

But Jesus walked with love and with patience. Jesus modeled the way for us to engage with people who don’t agree with us. 

 

Cancel culture is the opposite of what Christ modeled for us. We are called to stay at the table with everyone, not ban people from it. 

 

Ask yourself- do we actually have the patience for true discipleship anymore, or do we just want to do away with people forever?

Do we have enough HOPE within ourselves to carry on? 

 

Or can we recognize that the lack of hope within us has led us to extremism. 

The fact is that if we believe that we can kick someone out of the Kingdom, we believe that someone can kick us out of it too. If that doesn’t scream lack of hope I don’t know what does.

This is a poverty mindset. And I refuse to believe that my portion can be taken from me.  

I believe that if we started seeing people with “bad” behaviors as orphans who don’t know their Father instead of forever outsiders that this world and our culture would dramatically change. 

Jesus’ cause was urgent, but he didn’t use a weapon, he used a gentle, patient hand. 

 

 

Are any of these cultural problems necessarily our fault? No. But are we called to fix them? I think so. 

I think that we who know the Way are called to fix things that aren’t our fault with love and sacrifice. And I believe that it’ll cost us everything. Every bit of pride, anger, and bitterness. Every bit of entitlement and hurt and hate. 

 

Love and sacrifice are the only effective things to fix broken hearts and make children out of orphans. 

Instead of cancelling people, we need to recognize that who they are isn’t always who they’re going to be. Who we are isn’t always who we’re going to be either.  

 

We have to settle into the fact that redeeming a generation and a nation is a lifetime work. We will see wins and losses. And we might not ever see the world change in our lifetime, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a worthy cause. 

 

Nobody wins afraid of losing. I’m not afraid of losing the fight because it’s already been won. So I hang onto hope, and I carry on.

 

I’m passionate about raising up a generation and a nation full of people who know their Father. It is a worthy cause. And I’ll never stop fighting for that. If you’ve been cancelled or ostracized, you’re welcome at my table. You see, I’m not concerned about your behavior. I’m concerned about your heart. It’s okay to me that your spiritual poverty has led you to act like an orphan. I used to act like an orphan too. I just want to introduce you to your Father. Come sit at the kid’s table with me. There’s always more than enough room.