This post was hijacked by Anne Lamott

So this isn't at all what I intended to write about this week. I was three-quarters of the way done with a very different post about finding truth in paradox when I picked up a copy of Anne Lamott's latest book, Almost Everything, and discovered that her first chapter relates to the same topic. Having posted an Instagram photo of my latte, oatmeal raisin cookie and said book, I was afraid it would look, well...suspicious if I suddenly posted similar thoughts using identical philosophical sources. Not that my little blog has much of a following, but I do still take the idea of plagiarism seriously. Even though I know my thoughts and words are my own, I decided to put them on the back burner for now.

As I sipped my latte and dove into Ms. Lamott's book, simultaneously loving what I was reading and lamenting the fact that I needed to come up with something else to write, a paragraph struck me.

Scientists say we are made of stars, and I believe them, although my upper arms looks like hell. Maybe someday the stars will reabsorb me. Maybe, as fundamentalist Christians have shared with me, I will rot in hell for all eternity, which I would hate because I am very sensitive. Besides, I have known hell, and I have known love. Love is bigger. (Lamott: 2018, p. 32)

Sadly, I'm not surprised that such vitriol has been directed at Ms. Lamott. And I'm glad she can respond with her characteristic blend of humor and truth. She's a controversial figure who pulls no punches.

Let me be upfront. I don't agree with all of Anne Lamott's theology or her politics, but I know that she loves Jesus; and seriously, that woman can write! I was introduced to her books many years ago by an atheist Jewish writer friend. Upon her recommendation, I picked up a copy of Lamott's masterful guide Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. I laughed. I cried. I even tracked down a first edition to give to my daughter for her high school graduation.

But back to that quote above. For real? What gives any person the right to tell another they will rot in hell? And if you're a Christian saying this to another Christian, I think you need to pick up a mirror and take a look at yourself. That kind of hate can never come from a heart that truly knows a loving God. And Lamott is right -- Love is much bigger than hell.

Here's a little story about a time my husband and I had the opportunity to know what hate feels like. Real hardcore blistering hatred. The year was 2003. The Episcopal Church was in the midst of a seismic battle over the authority of scripture and the election of a homosexual bishop. My husband was the communications director for a church organization on the more conservative end of the spectrum. As we approached the 2003 General Convention, we spent a lot of time in prayer about how God wanted us to interact with our church and its delegates as we stepped into what we knew would be an ugly, painful debate. One night as we sat at our kitchen table, God revealed the image of a daisy. That was it. A simple daisy.

We weren't sure what to do with that. After all, a daisy isn't a political strategy. The more we prayed into it, the more we thought about the daisy as a symbol of peace and love, something that would undoubtedly resonate with the many boomer generation delegates in the church. So instead of launching into convention with arguments and animosity, we put together a series of daily devotions focused on various attributes of God. We called it the "God is" campaign. God is love...peace...hope...joy...mercy...grace...life...justice...truth. We prayed that this would bring unity to our church as we focused on what really matters. Our big event would be the distribution of daisies to delegates and visitors entering the Minneapolis Convention Center for Sunday Eucharist.

When Sunday finally arrived, we gathered our team and buckets of perky white daisies along the walkway leading to the convention center. Our plan was simple. Everyone arriving would be handed a single daisy and told "Jesus loves you." How's that for simple child-like theology? The majority of delegates arriving that morning would probably have described themselves as progressives, similar in theology and political ideology to Ms. Lamott. Some black, some white. Some gay, some straight. Some male, some female. Some that wouldn't fit into those categories.

One by one, we shared the truth of God's love to everyone in our path. As we did so, we began to feel how much God loved each one of these people. We were really enjoying the exchange when something surprising happened. A group of protesters began to gather on the grass mere feet behind us. The group was comprised of men, women and children. They had signs and a megaphone.

As they began to scream in our direction, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Women who were part of this group were yelling at female clergy, Take off that dog collar, you b!%@h! Mere children were howling, God hates f@gs! and Burn in Hell! You may have already guessed that our unwelcome visitors were members of the Westboro Baptist Church, known for traveling the nation to dispense rancor wherever they deem appropriate. (And yes, even though they made my stomach turn, God loves them, too.)

The only way to describe the experience is to say that it felt like hell. The fire of hate seared our backs as we continued with ever increasing fervor to proclaim "Jesus loves you!" In this moment, God allowed his love to flow through us in a way that I had never before experienced. Tears poured from our eyes because we knew in our hearts that this love was much greater and far more real than the venom behind us. Differences, great and small, faded away as we were bound together in love.

I wish I could say this moment led to a renewed unity in our church. Ultimately, it did not. That week, our church fractured irreparably. But some of us experienced a lesson we would never forget. As Anne Lamott so accurately states, I have known hell, and I have known love. Love is bigger. 

And so, in a sense, this post is still about paradox. God taught me something about the nature of his love through an encounter with a bona fide hate group. He does indeed work in strange ways.

Friends, what unites us is so much greater than what divides us, so let's take Jesus' advice: A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. (John 13:34-35)