In conversation with a friend recently, we talked about our natural tendency to classify people or put them into “boxes.” We take a look at a pastor and try to find indicators of where he (or she) fits theologically—books read, schools attended (and when), conferences attended, known associates, etc. We readily admitted that this often cuts off opportunities to get to know the person as an individual. I compare it to an entomologist who has become so interested in properly classifying an insect that he neglects to appreciate the intrinsic beauty of the creature.
In his book entitled Never Call Them Jerks, Arthur Paul Boers offers a listing of the dangers of “labeling” others. To mention just a few of these:
Labeling can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. For example, when one is identified as a “trouble-maker,” the person often proceeds to create problems.
Labeling is judgmental. This is a paternalistic rather than an objective action. It dehumanizes a person.
Labeling makes it easier to write off others’ concerns. It obstructs the opportunity to see another’s perspective and to learn from it.
Labeling hurts healthy process. It cuts off healthy dialogue.
Labeling can be a disguise for projection. We see in others what we may try to overlook in ourselves. Christ warned against this when he talked about “criticizing the speck in our brother’s eye and ignoring the log in our own” (Matthew 7:4-5, paraphrase).
In our efforts to determine who is “moderate” and who is “conservative” those of us who are Fellowship Baptists may fail to extend fellowship to our brothers and sisters in Christ. Do we remember how some of us were treated in the past? Of course we do, but we don’t have to adopt the same behavior. Let’s not be too quick to close the doors to new friends, new relationships, and new opportunities.
I am grateful for my heritage as a Southern Baptist. I was exposed to the Bible and worship from a very young age. I grew up in a church in south Alabama that supported the Cooperative Program of missions giving. This meant that our church had the benefit of being part of a supportive group of local churches and the educational opportunities that afforded. Our state convention provided varied and effective ministries with groups like orphans, ethnic groups, and college students. We supported missionaries at home and abroad. We had good Bible study and training literature (which we paid for, of course). I went to an accredited seminary and paid a remarkably low tuition. Wherever you went on a Sunday morning (in the Southeast and Southwest, at least), you could find a church that sang the familiar hymns and studied the same Bible lesson. In hindsight, I realize that this Southern Baptist utopia was imperfect. There were significant theological differences, often geograp
Comments