I love you. I love you. I hate you.
I have no idea why I still have a Facebook account. I cannot think of a single time scrolling through Facebook has gone well for me.
Today was no different. I stumbled upon a group created a few years back detailing the adoption journey with two of my brothers. Scrolling through updates of the long, exhausting days of attachment and learning to become a family, there they were. Comments from friends long gone. Blatant, ugly. A reeking reminder of all the people who I once called loved ones- many that have since become part of the angry mob that stalks my family online.
“This is awesome.” “So happy to hear this.” “I love you guys.”
I love you. I love you. I hate you.
Somehow between church moves, elections, reformed theology, and covid protocols, close friends morphed into sworn enemies. I’m still grappling with the fallout.
I wonder if they know the doctrine and politics they hate are the same ones that led us to adopt at all. I wonder if they know the immigrants and refugees are no different from my family. I wonder if they know we haven’t changed, they just weren’t paying enough attention. I wonder if they know what it feels like to see I-love-you disintegrate with every FB post. I wonder if they know how I-hate-you feels, even across the expanse of the internet. I wonder if you know I don’t hate you.
It’s a strenuous time in the American church- where community and family are more important than ever, though tensions seem unbearable. I’ve seen lines drawn and accusations hurled in the name of Christ. I’ve seen anger, hurt, frustration, and hate. I can’t help but notice how doctrine of Us-versus-Them creates wrong thinking across communities. What happens when members of the “Us” become “Thems” ? When we tie unity to agreeability, what happens when we disagree?
I love you. I love you. I hate you.
I’ve been a church member my entire life. I’ve seen communities rally around each other in times of hardship and celebration. I’ve also seen communities dissipate after the first argument. The biggest determinant of the two has not been similarities, agreements, or even hyper-spiritual Men’s/Women’s retreats.
The biggest determinant has been willingness to give. To give time when you’re exhausted, support when you’re unsure, and encouragement when you’re fearful. To give when you feel you have nothing left to offer. To love when all you have is hate.
I wore a lot of hand-me-downs as a kid. Each time summer dresses faded and the knees of my jeans became bare, someone in our church suddenly had a giant bag of clothes for me. I have fond memories of excitedly going through the clothes with my mom, marveling at the bags coming at the exact time they were needed. The most valuable thing my parents ever taught me was to give until you have nothing left- then give a little more and trust your needs will be met.
I am so tired of being hurt. I love you. I am so tired of being left behind. I love you. All I have left is hate. I hope you know I don’t hate you.
