Article
America
Creed
Justice
6 min read

Is it okay to be mean as long as you are mean and right?

Here's what a mean street preacher really taught me.

Nathan is a speaker and writer on topics related to faith, life and God. He lives near Seattle, Washington. His writing is featured frequently in The Seattle Times. nathanbetts.com

Behind a passer by a street peacher holds up a large yellow sign with a message on it.
Street preachers on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
LaTerrian McIntosh on Unsplash.

A few months ago, my cousin was visiting my hometown of Seattle for work. We planned to meet one evening for a Mariners baseball game during her visit. I suggested that we meet near the wonderful Ken Griffey Jr. statue near the stadium gates. What I hadn’t realized was that this was the precise spot a street evangelist had also decided to station himself in order to share (mostly shout) his message of judgement and destruction the same evening. Kind of like a pre-game verbal hors d'oeuvres. I arrived at the meeting point a few minutes before my cousin, giving me ample time to hear the preacher preach.  

Now, I grew up in church, and, in fact, am myself a speaker and writer on topics involving faith and God. In other words, I’ve had over 40 years to experience the church’s, umm, “quirks”. I’d like to think that very little coming from the mouths of faith preachers could shock me. Alas, I was wrong. 

As I began to listen to the preacher, lines like “weeping and gnashing of teeth” scorched through the preacher’s megaphone. Yep, nothing new there. The preacher used the word “judgment” a lot. Actually, impressively a lot. I’ve never before heard the words “God” and “judgment” used in conjunction more times within a two-minute span. There was a raging intensity to the sermon, but still in the range of normal for street preaching. 

Then, my cousin texted me that she was outside the ballpark but might have gotten the location wrong. I realized she and I were at two different locations. While I texted my cousin back, I tuned out the preacher’s message. That is until I heard him shout through his megaphone, “He hates you.” I stopped texting. I looked up at the preacher. Did he just say that God the Almighty hated all of us outside the ballpark? Families, little boys and girls, and elderly? Did God hate all of us lining up for the game? It was “bark at the park” night so even the dogs were casualties in the preacher’s line of fire. If nothing else was gleaned from the man’s message, it seemed, we were all to understand that God hates us. 

Minutes later, when my cousin and I finally found each other, I told her that she had had the good fortune of missing out on the street preacher informing her that God hates her. She replied, “Oh, I have plenty of others who tell me that!”  

Sadly, many of us have received that negative message from different sources in our world and too often from people sharing some association with God.  

In America, as election season comes to the boil, I’ve noticed (and maybe you have too) the not-so-subtle attitude that it’s okay to say mean things about another person as long as that person is on “the other side”. A verbal dig here, an eyeroll there, name-calling and slanderous nick-naming the enemy for the sake of ridicule have become all too common, if not a soft virtue in political discourse. It has become hard to discern where the moral line is, or if such a thing still exists within political dialogue.  

Conversations like the following happen so frequently following a political debate or interview, they’ve become cliché: “I almost cannot believe he said that!” Response: “Well, yes, that was pretty bad. But he’s right, isn’t he?” Translation: it’s okay to be mean as long as you are mean and right.  

Evangelicalism has gained a hard edge with little resemblance of the good news from which it has its very name.

The meaning of the word ‘evangelical’ here in America is a complex thing, to be sure. But perhaps one of the reasons it is understood as a political word more than a religious one is because the combative and rude nature of discourse seen in politics has become increasingly acceptable even in Christian settings. As a friend of mine said to me years ago, “It feels as though Christians have turned rudeness into a spiritual gift.”  

The thing is, you probably don’t know the preacher I heard in downtown Seattle, but you’ve probably heard or know a person who makes Christian claims in the same kind of rude ways.  The result is that evangelicalism has gained a hard edge with little resemblance of the good news from which it has its very name.  

I’ve had the privilege of speaking to audiences on topics of faith and God for around 20 years now and I’ve lost count of the number of people I’ve met who feel unlovable, already hated, and unforgivable for the decisions they’ve made in life.  

So when I hear a preacher shouting a message through a bullhorn in the name of God and I hear not words of hope, peace, grace, love, and forgiveness, but strictly judgement and burning, I fail to see how this God can be the one who came to earth out of love for people in the person of Jesus Christ.  

It’s true that the Bible does depict God enacting justice and judgement. But equally true is that the Bible not only displays, but out-and-out defines God as being love. My concern with the street preacher’s message is that although he might have communicated the justice of God (albeit in a warped way that would make old-time revivalists look tame), his message left little room for hearing about and feeling the love of God.  

If there is anything we need to hear today, it is the message that God, in his very nature, is love. One particular writer of antiquity, and a close friend of Jesus Christ, once penned a letter to first century churches. In attempting to explain what God is like and what people of faith should be like he wrote: “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”   

For those of us who have never been to a church, we only need to watch or attend an American football game to see a sign with the words John 3:16. That reference, taken from one of Christ’s biographies states that, “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.”  

This is a message we need to hear. It’s something we need to let into our bones—that those of us who feel beyond the reach of love, are in fact loved by God.  

In a strange way, I can’t help but admire the guts those street preachers have, banging out an unpopular message to strangers in crowds. The problem lies in the fact that often their message, so boldly proclaimed, is God’s disappointment, disapproval, or outright hate for people. 

Because this is the truth and too important to miss: God doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He always has and he always will. 

Snippet
Belief
Creed
3 min read

Does a creed create a truth?

Declaring truth is an unmodern act.

Alex lectures in theology at St Mellitus College.

A typewriter holds a piece or paper reading 'truth'
Markus Winkler on Unsplash.

2025 marks the 1700th anniversary of ratification of a statement, a form of which the Church continues to say to this day. Around the world, Christian community's are responding to this landmark by thinking again about the content of that statement and also about its form: a creed. 

The Church is not a source of truth. The Church might confess that which is true, but truth is not its possession to do with as it pleases. Arising from Jesus’ comments in John 14.6 the Christian tradition has thought of truth in an inflected way. If truth is primarily caught up with the person of Jesus Christ, then truth is something more fundamental than the Church. The Church has its ground in the truth rather than the truth having its ground in the Church. 

A creed is an expression of belief that this is the state of affairs. More than that, it is a statement of the commitment of oneself of this state of affairs. To say a creed is an existential act, a decision, for this. It is a decision for that which we did not create and over which we have no control. Beyond even that, it is a decision which we did not even make! It was a decision made by Christians before us who determined this and not that. 

It is hard to think of an act that is less compliant with a ‘modern’ human spirit. If Immanuel Kant was right that enlightenment is humanity’s ‘emergence from his [sic] self-incurred immaturity’, with this immaturity defined as ‘the inability to use one’s own understanding without the guidance of another’, then the practice of confessing a truth we have not personally determined is analogous to never quite advancing beyond a dummy and pram. 

Closer to home, the creeds speak in manner that won’t always align with our experience. There is a truth that is more fundamental even than what I induce to be true based on the particular thrownness of my being. On a mode of cultural analysis that is particularly attentive to power, this could be seen as hegemonic. The creeds are tools of establishing a common apprehension across tribes and tongues. A common adherence to truth that is basic (as in non-derivative) and universal irrespective of the particularity of experience.  

Beyond that, the claims that the creeds make may not be seen to be true. Experience may, in fact, trend in a different direction. The world with all its problems and pains may not appear to be the creation of an almighty and benevolent Lord. The Spirit who is Lord and giver or life may not appear to be breathing new vitality of the age to come into the present. The Church may not always appear to be one and holy. 

Why then, creeds? 

That what we have and know is that which we have received is baked in to the very nature of the Christian claim to know something about God rather than nothing.   

At that time Jesus said,

“I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do. “All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 

To know God is not something grounded in ourselves. God the Son has become a human and known the Father as one of us and for all of us. It is on the strength of his confession of God as Father that we confess God as Father.  

The continuous and repeated practice of reciting the creed reminds us that the possibility of speaking about God and the work of God is not a human possibility. It is a possibility for us based on the given event of God’s speech to us. We attend to that which is given. It is an act of faith through which we return again and again to the Word of God as the Church has received it.   

 

 

To find out more about the McDonald Agape Nicaea Project being held by St. Mellitus College in London, come and join the public lectures, or look out for other Nicene celebrations in 2025. 

Participants will hear from some of the world’s leading scholars on various issues related to Nicaea, including Professor Khaled Anatolios, Dr. Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Professor Ilaria Ramelli, Professor Bruce McCormack, Dr. Willie James Jennings, and many more.   

A significant part of the Nicaea conference in 2025 will be a call for papers, expanding dialogue on the topic and hearing from a wide array of voices.   

For more information or to register for these events, you can visit the Nicaea Project website