Time to kick up a fuss?

When Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. For before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group. The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray. Galatians 2:11-13

It must have been an absolutely electrifying moment – two giants of the early church, Cephas (that’s Peter) and Paul confronting one another before the confused and bemused congregation in Antioch. In a nutshell, Paul told Peter he was “condemned” and guilty of “hypocrisy”; even worse, he did it “in front of them all”. A public spectacle!

Never mind what the problem was – you have to read the whole passage to discover that. What matters is that the apostle Paul obviously felt there were times it might be necessary to express disagreement with fellow-Christians – to put it crudely, to kick up a fuss. On this occasion he felt that Peter’s error was fatal to the essence of the gospel, so he didn’t hold back. (On another occasion (Acts 15:36-41) he fell out with his old friend and mentor Barnabas, though you might wonder if that rift was quite so justified.)

We all hate divisions and disagreements in the church – or, at least, I hope we do. We should do everything we possibly can to avoid them; Jesus, after all, is the Prince of Peace, and he calls us to be “peace-makers” (Matthew 5:9).

But, if these stories in Acts and Galatians are anything to go by, there may be occasions when the unpleasantness of disagreement is better than allowing a vital gospel-principle to be sacrificed. The question is: how do we decide when to take a deep breath and kick up a fuss, and when to bite our lip and keep our mouth shut?

I want to suggest three questions we can ask ourselves before we launch out into disagreement.

First, is the issue big enough?

That dramatic day in Antioch Paul obviously felt something vital was at stake. Had he kept his head down the early church could well have developed in a completely different way; in fact, it could have split in two, a Jewish church and a separate gentile church, a denial of all that Jesus was about.

In church life today divisions can arise over all sorts of issues that are essentially trivial. When I was a young Christian it was matters like what version of the Bible was “right”, or whether music in a modern idiom was “acceptable”, or what mode of dress was “appropriate” in church: nothing touching the heart of the gospel at all.

Then, as now, different groups had different doctrinal emphases: issues concerning the “baptism of the Holy Spirit”, perhaps, or how we should envisage Christ’s “Second Coming”, or how to reconcile divine predestination and human free will. Such disagreements were more serious, but often still not something to fall out over. Today, all sorts of other questions demand our thoughts and prayers.

Whatever, it is often a matter of fine judgment; so we need to proceed only very cautiously.

Second, have I got my facts right?

Misunderstandings arise tragically easily. I personally can think of situations over the years where I picked up a completely wrong impression of someone or something, mounted my warhorse and charged into battle – and ended up muttering a pathetic apology… “Sorry, I hadn’t realised that…”

How much hurt and damage I had done along the way - well, I preferred not to think about it.

Proceed only with great care!

Third, are my motives pure?

In TS Eliot’s play Murder in the Cathedral, Archbishop Thomas Becket talks about the danger of “doing the right deed for the wrong reason”. Which raises intriguing questions: would it be better not to do it then, even if it is indeed the right deed? can any deed be “right” if done for the wrong reason?

Well, that’s a matter for individual conscience. But the fact is that God alone knows the depths of our hearts, and what really motivates us. We can fool ourselves into thinking we are acting out of genuine concern and love for the church, when in fact “it’s all about me” - my reputation, my injured pride, my status in the church, even perhaps a nasty desire for revenge or to put somebody down. Let’s face it – most of us aren’t anything like as nice inwardly as we like to appear outwardly, are we? Jesus said “Blessed are the pure in heart”.

Again, proceed only with great care!

Perhaps we should add a fourth question: Have I honestly and sincerely opened myself to the possibility that in fact it’s me who’s wrong?

Pardon? How dare you? Me wrong? Impossible!

Are you sure? Are you really sure?

Lord Jesus, please help me in all things to be a peace-maker, and to risk disturbing the peace only when the cause is certainly right, when the facts are crystal clear, and when I am sure my motives are pure. Amen.