I am not your bullseye and you’re not mine│Luke 4:14-21

What was the last argument you got into with someone?

Jesus once said something in his home synagogue that started an argument that almost got him killed.

What was the last argument you got into in which both sides, you and your opponent, hurt each other in such a way that the wounds are still painful? Do you remember what it was about?

When did you last lose control of yourself in an argument? Maybe you raised your voice, or used coarse language, or stormed off, maybe you slept in the other bedroom, got drunk, or ate a gallon ice cream, or made a long, late night post on social media, or googled divorce, or just crept off and cried your eyes out.

I raised my voice in an argument not too long ago and gave a short, fussy lecture in my kitchen because I felt disrespected by a teenager.

Are you in the middle of an argument right now?

How did it start?  Do you remember? Was it one of those situations where you or the other person just said one too many things and a conversation that was not an argument went over the waterfall and cascaded into argument?

Have you ever been in one of those long term arguments? The ones that go on for years? A lot of times you can’t remember how it started or you do but the origin story is so long and tedious that no one wants to hear it and you’re tired of telling it.

I am not going to make the argument that we shouldn’t argue.

I think arguing is about the most normal thing in the world.

The bible itself darn near starts with an argument. Remember that snake arguing with Eve about the apple? I am positive Adam and Eve argued after they got booted from paradise. Cain and Abel anyone? 

Remember Jacob, Joseph, David, Sarah, Peter, and Paul? All famous biblical arguers. My favorite argument is in the New Testament between Jesus and the Syrophenecian woman. That one ended really well. My point is that arguing is pretty normal.

Homo sapiens have been on the planet for around 300,000 years. I wonder how many total arguments there have been in that time?

In a way we’ve ridden the wave of all our arguments to this moment. Arguments are a part of life. A healthy argument about solving a problem often leads to the solution neither of us could see when we started arguing.

Now I am going to argue out of the other side of my mouth. Here is my argument with arguments. All too frequently arguments lead to injuries that leave people wounded in a way that lasts long after the issue over which they are arguing is forgotten about.

We don’t know how we got here but I said something and then you said something and now we hate each other.

The older I get the more I feel like the arguments I get invited into are too risky because the project Jesus has me on is loving the people I would love to argue with.

I once got into an argument with a man and from the start I was as wrong as the day is long. I didn’t realize that at first though, so I simmered angrily, and we avoided each other like the plague.

Then something happened. I was moving through a normal day and it hit me in the most thunderous way that I was wrong.

I was not very good at apologies in those days, but in a moment of divine inspiration I was driven to sit down with a pen and paper and write a letter to that man. In my letter I apologized and told him that I was wrong in a thousand ways and that the truth was that I loved him very much. I didn’t know why I acted so recklessly, but it wouldn’t happen again. I wrote all that to him and sent him my letter in the mail.

He received my letter, accepted my apology, and we connected and tearfully reconciled. Then one week later he died, suddenly in his sleep.

What if I hadn’t swallowed my pride? What if I had kept the argument alive?

Arguments are risky because some of them cause pain you can’t undo. So I try to stay out of them.

I am not your bullseye and you’re not mine.

After Jesus said what he said he sat down. Then he said something else, somebody else said something and like gas thrown suddenly on a flame pretty soon the conversation erupted into an unholy argument. The people in his home church tried to kill him. Seriously, they tried to throw him off a cliff.

He slipped out of their hands and got out of town. I bet there were people in that place that wondered for the rest of their lives how it came to be that that homecoming went sideways so fast.

What touches me deeply is what Jesus did next. He had no need to be right or to win or argue again. He went on a healing spree. 

Inside of two chapters he healed hundreds of people who were sick and suffering.

He responded to the argument and to nearly being killed with high octane, healing love.

He also made friends. Jesus didn’t have a lot of friends when he started out.

But he made a bunch of them after that argument. He made friends with a whole lot of people he wasn’t supposed to be friends with. That’s how I came to the conclusion that a Christian is one who looks for the friend hidden in every stranger.

After his healing and friend-making spree Jesus found a level spot in a wide open plain, and he preached a remarkable sermon. In his sermon he said some wild things.  

He said, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who abuse you.”

Then he said, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? That’s easy. I want you to do the harder work of loving people who are really hard to love. And when you love hard to love people you don’t get a trophy! Actually, that’s my paraphrase. He said, “And don’t expect anything in return. Your reward is that you are a child of God. God is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. You need to practice the same measure of kindness.”

It’s almost like he’s trying to make us argument proof.

I really wrestled with the risk and value of arguments and my conclusion is this:

Argue all you want. It’s normal. It’s what we’ve always done. But remember: you can waste your life arguing. 

I suspect a lot of our arguments are to some degree an avoidance technique. When I argue I am avoiding acceptance of my powerlessness and unconditional surrender to union with God and all my neighbors in love.

And at the end of your life whatever you’re arguing about now won’t matter. I promise it won’t. The only thing you’ll care about is love. Love is all…is the truth. That’s inarguable.