Strong Enough to Be Hated

Christians don't need to seek hatred, nor do we need to be surprised by it.

At a recent event debuting a new documentary, one of the speakers on the panel said, “We have to be prepared to do things which invite the hatred of the world.” His point was that our culture has taken a turn toward dangerous ideas about human dignity, identity, freedom of speech, community, and sexual ethics. Those who wish to refashion our community in the image of expressive individualism and emotivism believe controlling the public narrative is vital to creating a better society and attempts to champion more traditional views will not be tolerated. Free speech matters less than correct speech, and the path to correction runs through intimidation and control. In the face of such conviction, it is easier for those who disagree to say nothing than to engage in defense of a different view of the world. It would be dishonest not to recognize voices on the other side who see failure to express disagreement in the most provocative voice as timidity and weakness in the face of fascism. Fascism is the accusation Du jour, and at times it seems everyone sees fascists everywhere.

Opposition invites hatred, but that doesn’t make the action of opposition an act of hate. A woman who participated in killing her child through abortion may hate me when I argue what she did was objectively wrong. I understand that, even expect it, but a general call for our society to treat all human beings with the same dignity and respect regardless of age or level of development isn’t hateful. It seeks a better world for us all even if that better world requires our community to learn to make space for others especially when their existence initially strikes us as inconvenient. It is a call to love our neighbor as ourselves in obedience to the teaching of Jesus Christ, but you can’t make that call without condemning the members of our society who live in violation of higher principles. A liar will always hate the person who uncovered his deception. The thief will always hate the security officer who catches her stealing. The adulterer will hate the friend who discovers his adultery and tells him to come clean to his spouse. We often hate those who confront our self-deceptions and call us to something better.

I once went on a mission trip to a predominantly Muslim country. The pastor who organized the trip asked me to speak at a seminary on the need for accountability and study in ministry to an audience comprised mostly of pastors from that region. I crafted a presentation around the thesis, “If you are not called to a life of study and accountability then you are not called to be a pastor.” I worried it would be so obviously true it might bore the audience, but my host assured me the thesis was exactly what he wanted.

The audience was larger than I expected and encouraging to the speakers who preceded me throughout the morning. My talk was the last on the schedule before lunch. The audience greeted me in the same warm manner they had welcomed every other speaker, but things took a dramatic turn. As I stated my thesis, they became noticeably quiet and started shifting in their seats. They became increasingly agitated as I presented my case for the necessity of a life of study and intellectual discipline for those seeking to lead congregations in the name of Christ. As I argued that all people in ministry must be a resource for their community as an act of service they started yelling back. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but my host looked undisturbed. I carried on. The explication of the theme of accountability sent them over the top. This audience hated me.

Allow me a moment to share a conviction about public speaking. My job is not to be liked. My duty, as I understand it, is to say something true and meaningful to the audience. It is entirely possible the message I am delivering is not a welcome message. That is irrelevant. If I prepared to deliver a true and valuable message, then I carry on with or without the affection of the crowd. Every pastor, every minister, every Christian leader must be devoted to study and accept accountability for what they teach. The more that message bothered the room full of pastors the more bluntly I brought the point home. When an audience expresses open and unapologetic hatred for the subject matter, I no longer feel compelled to behave winsomely or to be likable. I am perfectly comfortable championing the truth in the face of hostility. My translator that day, however, looked less enthused.

The audience cheered when I finished, not out of appreciation but in mocking celebration I was done. The unassuming man who invited me to come and assigned my topic crossed the stage, shook my hand with a sly smile, and approached the lectern. He began to speak, and my translator whispered what he said into my ear. He pointed at me and emphatically said, “Pastor Watts^[1] made his case. He artfully presented an argument from scripture and logic that a life of ministry, the life of a pastor, is inescapably a life of study, accountability, and service. His argument is irrefutable! Should anyone in this room wish to try to refute it, I am here! Argue with me now! Make your case that he is wrong right in here in front of everyone in this room! You cannot do it, but I am here for you to try!” The room erupted and this formerly unassuming man stood before them and defeated one objection after another. He looked like a giant to me, so powerful in the Spirit as he championed the presentation I had finished only moments before. I was in awe.

We broke for lunch, and some hostile pastors surrounded him arguing throughout. Others sought the other speakers cordially talking to them about prayer, visions, and the gospel. Not a single person spoke to me the rest of the day. Even as the audience left the conference and all the speakers stood in a line at the exit to thank them for coming, everyone passed me by without any attempt to hide their contempt. It wasn’t fun.

Later, the host pastor and I were alone. He patted me on the shoulder and told me I did exactly what he hoped I would. I responded, “I am grateful to hear that, but I must say pastor, I feel slightly set up. You knew what I said would make them crazy.”

He nodded and having returned to his gentle demeanor told me, “I did. Let me tell you about the pastors in my country. Because we live under the control of our Muslim government, many people can be driven by their resentment. Pastors have a habit of feeding the negative emotions of their congregations, of playing off their hate and fear. They show no concern for the authority of scripture or sound doctrine. They rise on emotions and fall into heresy. Some of them become leaders of what amounts to cults existing to celebrate the pastor. That culture must be confronted. When I looked over the resumes of the speakers coming on the mission trip, I saw that you spoke on abortion. I knew you were strong enough to be hated.”

I realized I had underestimated this man. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He smiled broadly, “I didn’t want to freak you out.”

I often think about that pastor, the vision of him thundering at the angry audience, unafraid in a world where the risks for speaking the truth can be much greater than what I face in the United States. I think about what he said to me; I am strong enough to be hated. In chapter 15 of The Gospel of John, Jesus says:

18 “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. 19 If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. 20 Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also. 21 They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the one who sent me.

We should not seek the hate of the world, looking to elevate our platform by playing the role of the hero in the face of a fallen culture. We don’t have to. If we simply and honestly answer questions about what Christianity claims regarding sex, marriage, the value of human life, identity, and community people will hate us. That is the sticking place, tell the truth to a world in love with lies. Tell it with strength, grace, and the hope of mercy. Tell it often. The hate will come, but the truth will do its work. The Holy Spirit will convict some to grace, maybe even a few who initially hated hearing the truth.

When asked if it bothers me when audiences hate me, I always answer the same. They don’t hate me. They don’t even know me. They hate what I am saying. If someone hates me for saying we ought to love our neighbor as ourselves and that we are at our best when we operate within the most expansive view of our neighborhood as possible, I can live with that. The world needs to hear that message more than it needs for Jay Watts to be universally liked.

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^[1] He earlier informed me I was a pastor in his country, whatever else I may believe.