Lessons Learned

In this series of “Respectful Conversations,” each set of contributors is invited to use their third and final posts to point to issues that require more thought and that could use further conversation. There are any number of fascinating questions and implications that have arisen in my exchanges with Matthew that could occupy the time of Christian thinkers with far more time and talent than I personally possess. In the confines of this final post I can’t, however, begin to address even a fraction of these issues and won’t, therefore, try for comprehensiveness. I hope that any readers joining us at this point will kindly look back to our previous posts to get a sense of the flow of things.

The Limits of Orthodoxy

Finding unexpected sources of agreement is a rewarding part of any good dialogue. But identifying crucial and important aspects of disagreement is equally thrilling, even if it is far less appreciated. Most of the time in discussions like this, people tend to get lost in confusion and miscommunication and never make their way to the happy shores of clear-eyed, uncompromising differences of opinion. Such disagreements, though, are often genuine sources of creativity and promise. Forcing ourselves to find new reasons to offer in hopes of persuading makes us return to and reevaluate our own commitments, and gives us again the possibility of changing our minds or renewing our confidence. Such unabashed differences are where Sharp and I have come to, I think, at last. While resolving them is (alas!) outside the scope of this essay, I will say one or two words about them. 

 

Respectful Disagreement on the Possibility of “Agreeing to Disagree”

Instead, our increasingly fragile social position will winnow away those who are not substantively committed to the faith, and the deep hope of the gospel will become more deeply embedded in our own hearts. The glad light of good cheer among the faithful remaining will grow brighter in such circumstances, and conservatives will announce the word of grace while holding firm to their convictions about the shape that grace takes.

Response to Isaac Sharp

It’s a rare chance for me to be the ‘senior’ member in a discussion, but if Isaac Sharp is correct that role has been unintentionally afforded me here. Would that it supplied additional reasons to affirm my points. As it is, I’ve always argued that reasons are an inherently equalizing force, which leaves us where we started. But Sharp’s observation of younger ages of the ‘conservative’ side is a welcome indicative of my general point: conservatives on such questions are not going away any time soon. 

Current Trends and Future Prospects

I’ll start with a simple observation that, though perhaps unrepresentative, is nonetheless striking: without exception, every previous sub-topic of conversation in this series has (ahem) a “more senior” author presenting the more “progressive” line of reasoning and a younger author articulating the more traditionally “conservative” position.[1]  The conservative/traditional-liberal/progressive binary—and the requisite oppositional side choosing that goes along with it—generally, in my opinion, does more harm than good. This project, as I understand it, represents one kind of attempt to subtly subvert this very problem and to hopefully make space for some more nuanced reflections on what is and will undoubtedly continue to be the most divisive religious debate of our time. The contributors were, however, clearly chosen with the intention of having a discussion between people with opposing perspectives and the fact that they have consistently diverged along the lines of seniority is, at the very least, intriguing if not ironic.[2]

Will the controversies ‘fade away’?

It is entirely possible that in challenging the relevance and importance of polling for understanding the future of the church that conservatives might be falling prey an irrational optimism that is purely wishful thinking. At the same time, recalcitrant belief in the face of majority opinions is sometimes commendable. Socrates was compelled to drink hemlock, and he is remembered as a hero for his dissent. (We are less likely to remember those who were deluded.) The question is whether a traditional account of sexual ethics is true; if it is, those who are conservative have every reason to carry on with their convictions even at the expense of their own cultural relevance and power. And to that question, the polls that tell us right now which way the historical winds are blowing are perfectly irrelevant. If such shifts become a reason for hope or despair for the people of God, we build for ourselves a less sure foundation for our communities than the faith that we have received.