Why choosing “the lesser of two evils” is not always a rule to live by

Why choosing “the lesser of two evils” is not always a rule to live by

Last week, I predicted (here) that an increasing number of “evangelical leaders” would begin endorsing a certain Republican presidential candidate, especially after a scheduled “meet-cute” slated for June.

I also lamented this.

To be honest, I don’t like posting on such topics, primarily because discussing politics on the internet is about as promising as trusting your three-year-old with your stock portfolio (Why do we own four hundred shares of Dora the Explorer, Inc.!?).

Still, I feel enough of an obligation to distance the gospel of Jesus from the gospel of Trump that I’m willing to deal with the inevitable fallout. All things being equal, I’d happily write a similar post on Trump’s likely opponent. But it’s not necessary. The number of evangelicals rushing to join the family Clinton is similar those rushing to join the family Manson. Roughly.


In regard to all the comments, both positive and critical, the most common critique (by far) ran basically as follows:

Jesus isn’t running, so we must choose “the lesser of two evils.”

Because this point was made by many different people, I thought that it deserved a respectful response.


Since I agree with the first claim (“Jesus isn’t running”), I’m only going to examine the logic of the second part (“In elections, we must choose between the lesser of two evils”).

And I do mean logic. Given this, I will intentionally avoid all mention of particular candidates: No Trump, Hillary, Bush, Bernie, or Adolf Hitler references allowed. Hallelujah. I’m only examining the premise.

Here’s my thesis:

While choosing the “lesser of two evils” (or: LOTE) may often be warranted, it is not always so.

Thus, it is not an “axiom” to live by.

To clarify, an axiom is a statement regarded as being established or self-evidently true.

The LOTE argument is not an axiom, because it is very far from being self-evident. And for Christians especially, there are instances in which it may be especially problematic.

But let’s start with the obvious.


The fact is that choosing the better of two imperfect options often makes great sense.

To use a ridiculous example: Let’s say you commit a terrible crime and the judge gives you a choice of punishment: “For the next week, you must either listen to non-stop Nickelback, or watch non-stop episodes of PBS’s Caillou.” (If you have kids [or ears], you know the terror of this verdict.) And in this scenario, you should try to choose the lesser of two evils.

I also agree that a LOTE vote often makes good sense. It has even been my own approach.

It’s not inherently wrong; it’s just not always right. So it’s not an axiom.

Here’s why: The following are three instances in which it may be wise to set aside LOTE logic.


Personally, I begin re-thinking the LOTE mentality when the two major options presented to me make me feel physically ill. Like: I-need-to-go-lay-down-now ill. Let’s call this “the gag threshold.” Of course, some things that disgust me may not bother you at all. You may like beef in your seven layer desserts (Friends reference). I do not.

In elections, I can easily vote for someone that I disagree with on a variety of issues, especially if I perceive them to be the slightly better option. But once both major choices cross far beyond my gag threshold, I jump off the LOTE boat like it’s the Titanic.

In such cases, choosing either one feels dirty and complicit, as if one is siding with ideas that are base, inane, or dangerous.

I think most people know this. We just have different gag thresholds. If the general election came down to Vader versus Voldemort, I’m joining the dark side just because one might technically be worse (#GryffindorForever).

The gag threshold is the first sign that one may look beyond the LOTE.


A second problem for the LOTE axiom is the assumption that one always knows the lesser evil. In some cases, I don’t. And in others, I think I do, but I am probably wrong.

As someone asked me recently: “How does it feel to be wrong?”

Answer: “It feels exactly like you’re right.”

As an axiom, the LOTE approach may presume infallible knowledge of the future, and I don’t have that.


A third and final problem for the LOTE rule is the idea that there are always and only two options in a given election.

In fact, there’s no rule requiring you to vote for either the Republican or the Democratic nominee in order to be a responsible citizen. Vote for whomever you want. Especially if you’ve reached your “gag threshold” (point one), or if it’s not clear (to you at least) which candidate is actually worse (point two).

Now for the likely objections:

“But I want my vote to count!”

Good news: your vote counts for the same amount regardless. You have one vote (Unless you lived in Chicago in 1960).

Now, if what you really mean is “I want my vote to determine the outcome,” then there’s bad news: your vote has probably never counted, and it probably never will.

“But if I don’t vote for A, it might as well be a vote for B.”

Not exactly. This claim has rhetorical force, but it’s logical nonsense. Strictly speaking, no one takes all the votes for Mickey Mouse and adds them to the total for the Republican or Democratic nominee. Choosing “A” is the same as choosing “A”; choosing “C” is not.

Also, one reason for not always following one’s usual party affiliation is to demonstrate that you will not simply rubber stamp whomever they set forth simply because “the other side” might win. If that mentality wins out, then parties are not held accountable.

“But I want to vote for someone who can actually win.”

Why? Since when is “voting for the winner” a core value in democracy? And when did Jesus ever say: “Blessed are the winners”? That sounds like someone else.

Betting on the winner makes great sense at a dog track, but you don’t get points for it in elections. If you’ve reached your gag threshold, or if it’s not clear who’s worse, then what do you gain from (possibly) siding with the winning candidate? What you might lose is credibility if your candidate proves to be a “Vader-mort.”

To paraphrase the great Atticus Finch says in To Kill a Mockingbird,

Sometimes [conviction] is when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you … see it through no matter what.


In sum, I’m thankful for all the interaction on my prior post.  And I completely agree that there is often nothing wrong with trying to choose the better of two imperfect options.

It may be wise.

But it doesn’t automatically make good sense.

And if a day comes when the two major choices make death by Nickelback or Caillou seem desirable, then one is free to look for other options.

Why I won’t be attending the evangelical “meet-cute” with Donald Trump (even though I wasn’t asked to)

Why I won’t be attending the evangelical “meet-cute” with Donald Trump (even though I wasn’t asked to)

Last week, it was announced that a veritable troop of “evangelical leaders” has been invited to a closed-door meeting with Donald Trump. The reason, according to Tony Perkins, is to “have a conversation that could lead to a better understanding of what Trump has to offer the country.”

Sadly, I will not attend.

Trump Bible

One reason is that I was not invited. That part is understandable. I am not that important. Then again, my absence is probably for the best. Because unlike Perkins, I have seen quite enough of what Mr. Trump “has to offer the country.”

But aside from not being invited, and not needing more info on what Mr. Trump is “offering,” I also have a third reason for not attending:

I know a“meet-cute” when I see one.

And the outcome of this one feels, sadly, predictable.

What, you ask, is a meet-cute?


According to Google—a trusted source for university professors like myself—a “meet-cute” is a scene from romantic comedies in which an odd couple (two people who would never normally see eye-to-eye) comes together through a zany encounter, and finds unexpected chemistry.

In this case, picture John Cusack from Serendipity, except older, orange, and with a comb-over that defies Newtonian physics. Burn that image in your mind. Meditate upon it. Selah.

And as for the meet-cute between Trump and evangelicals, the movie trailer writes itself. (Pro tip: Use that special movie trailer voice).

This summer:

They’re so different! He’s a foul-mouthed billionaire, with misogynistic tendencies, xenophobic tirades, and a penchant for conspiracy theories.

She’s a small town good girl who likes Chris Tomlin records, Beth Moore Bible studies, and has long since “kissed dating goodbye.” It should never work!

But then the unexpected happens. And as Paula Abdul told us, opposites attract.

Coming June 21st (since that’s the date of the meeting).


All kidding aside, I can’t say for certain what will happen at this pow wow between Trump and evangelicals. Perhaps it’s just a chance to speak truth to power. Still, I do have an unfortunate prediction.

My guess is that in the weeks that follow, we should expect an increasing number of statements like the following from the “evangelical leaders” in this romantic tragedy:

While we’ve had differences with Mr. Trump in the past, we were very encouraged by our time together. He really listened to us! And we feel confident that our goals align in many areas.

In the end, this election is just too important for evangelicals to sit out. We must defeat Hillary Clinton in November. And that is why I am prepared to pledge my support to Donald J. Trump for Sultan, I mean, PRESIDENT of the United States.

Sincerely, Dr. Faustus.

Or as a clever cartoonist captioned recently, the revised baptismal declaration runs as follows:

“Do you renounce Satan and all his works?”

“I do. But I’ll still support him if he’s the nominee.”

I’m having a bit of fun with this, but the prediction about more evangelicals endorsing Trump (after the meet-cute of course) is serious. And I hope I’m wrong.


But since I’m not attending, there are a few things that I would like someone to have a “conversation” about. So if you were invited (Russell Moore; were they brave enough to invite you?), feel free to pass this along.

Or just tweet it.

I’m sure @realDonaldTrump will give a thoughtful response, per usual.

Here goes:

Mr. Trump,

You’ve been reported as saying that “Laziness is a trait in blacks.”[1] Did you mean to include Mexicans in that? Or do you see them as hard working “rapists” and “murderers”?

And about your theology: You brag frequently (as only you can) about your Christian faith. Jerry Falwell Jr. even likened you to Jesus! That’s huge Mr. Trump. Jesus is like the Steve Jobs of the evangelical org chart. I know, I know, you prefer Messiahs who didn’t get captured, but still, take it as a compliment.

Anyway, given all that Christian fervor, Mr. Trump, how is it that you claim NEVER to have asked God for forgiveness? Not even once!? That’s impressive. Maybe you are more Christ-like than even Mr. Falwell thinks. (He can ask you for forgiveness later.)

And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of the misogyny, the vulgarity, the extramarital affairs, the over-the-top boasting of sexual prowess, the recent and vocal support for things like abortion, Planned Parenthood, and, oh yeah, Hillary Clinton (as late as 2012).

Then there’s the way you repeatedly misspell the word “White” in your campaign slogan (Seriously, “G-R-E-A-T” isn’t even close, but I guess spellcheck wouldn’t catch that). And the way you repeatedly incite supporters to acts of violence in exchange for legal fees. Classy stuff. Very Christian.


I could go on and on.

But I realize now another reason why I was not invited to the evangelical meet-cute:

I would totally kill the When-Harry-Met-Sally buzz.


In closing, I must clarify that this post is not a veiled attempt to support Mr. Trump’s opponent come November. I’m sure that will be the pushback, but it doesn’t fly. Because fears of “the alternative” do not justify complicity with the kind of shameful nonsense detailed above. And endorsements equal complicity.

Likewise, I do not begrudge anyone for attending the meet-cute. I hope they do. (Especially folks like Russell Moore; we need them there.) And I hope they tell Trump, more graciously than I have, why they can’t support him.

But that hope does not change my above prediction.

Whatever happens, one point stands supreme: As Christians, we must remember that the Kingdom of God—and not some partisan loyalty—is our true political affiliation.

Lordship is a political concept after all–and we follow the Lamb. Not the Elephant. Not the Donkey. Certainly not the Donald.

So while many evangelicals may be swayed by the caviar and cocktails (er…, iced tea) at the upcoming meet-cute, I will not be.

And not just because I’m not invited.

Vicit Agnus noster; eum sequamur.





[1] Unlike all other quotes in this post, this one alone cannot be corroborated with video evidence (hence the qualifier, “You’ve been reported as saying”). The quote comes from the former president of the Trump Plaza Hotel, John R. O’Donnell, in a Trump biography. When asked about the allegations, Trump did not deny them, saying that “The stuff O’Donnell wrote about me is probably true. The guy’s a f*#king loser.” This acknowledgement came in Trump’s 1999 interview with Playboy. Again, all very classy.

Can Satire Sanctify? The Babylon Bee takes the Internet by Storm

Move over Comedy Central, there’s now a sacred source for stinging satire:

The Babylon Bee.


Here’s a sampling of the latest faux headlines:

  • “Local High Schooler Pretty Sure Sixth Camp Rededication Did the Trick”
  • “Archaeologists Discover Prophet Daniel’s Weight Loss Diary”
  • “Redditor Takes Ten-Minute Break From Browsing Porn To Lecture Christians On Morality”
  • “Everything Local Man Feels Led To Do He Coincidentally Really Likes”
  • “Rescue Attempt Mounted For Couple Trapped In Post-Church Small Talk”
  • “Steven Furtick Cancels Book Tour After Getting Lost in his Mansion”
  • “Benny Hinn Miraculously Removes Lump From Woman’s Purse”


The Bee is the creation of 32-year-old Adam Ford, a dad from Detroit. According to The Washington Post—yeah, that’s right, The Washington Post did a story on this (here)—Ford launched the Bee in March, and it attracted more than 1 million visitors(!) within three weeks. Not bad. The stories are provided by unpaid freelancers (acceptable translation of the Greek phrase “Seminary Students”).

Prior to launching the site, Ford hoped to be a pastor. Then debilitating panic attacks and clinical depression caused him to turn away from crowds and toward writing. He found his niche:

“Most of the articles serve to hold up the truth and let it do the work,” he states. “I hope people leave the site with a spring in their step, or limping.” (Washington Post)

Both possibilities present themselves.

Take, for instance, the recent story about the time Joel Osteen’s happy thoughts made him able to fly (here).

As “Osteen” notes:

“I just decided one day I wasn’t going to let the enemy hold me back anymore, and I started boldly declaring before God each and every day that I was going to fly.”

The report ends with the smiley televangelist soaring high above the one-time NBA arena where his church meets.

And then there is the bulletin about a “Wild at Heart” Men’s Group that got hopelessly lost in a lightly wooded field behind their local church:

“Medics were immediately called to the scene to treat the brave, but traumatized, group of men.”

“After all this, [one member] says he’s not giving up on the Wild At Heart study. ‘There’s something primal, risky, and wild in God’s heart. While we may have come uncomfortably close to death in this harrowing experience, we’re that much closer to finding out what it means to be a real man of God.’”


I find these stories hilarious.

And perhaps that’s unsurprising.  I have been a longtime fan of Stephen Colbert, Jon Stewart, and John Oliver.

But here’s a serious question: Can satire be a sanctifying agent for the church?

In other words, can it serve a purpose other than just making us smile? Or is it more likely to be detrimental as Christians make fun of each other, or the church at large?


As someone who loves satire, I must admit that it has pitfalls.

For some of us, cynicism lurks behind the laughs.

Such cynicism is negativity with a smirk. It is a pervasive pessimism marked by punch-lines rather than overt anger. If you’re really angry, you can slap a Trump sticker on your car and fantasize about a giant golden wall in ways that make even characters on the Walking Dead feel uncomfortable.

But if you’re prone to cynicism, perhaps you turn on John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight.

Personally, I’m predisposed to the latter more than the former. But neither is good.

I’ve noticed this danger as I enjoy offerings like The Daily Show, and comedians like Jon Stewart. At their best, they shine the light of truth through humor, but for some of us (read: me), too much satire can reinforce the sense that everyone in politics and media is either a hypocrite, a moron, or both.

For me, cynicism is something I must guard against.

A second danger in satire is a kind of self-righteous meanness (or at least pride) that emerges as we tear down others in the name of comedy .

Sometimes this is done by those who have few accomplishments of their own, as highlighted in this story from the Bee: “First-Year Seminarian Ready To Take Over For Senior Pastor If Necessary.”

DES PLAINES, IL—First-year seminarian, George Turner, 23, confirmed Friday that—if necessary—he could easily step in to take over Rev. Gary Price as Senior Pastor at Covenant Presbyterian. […]

Gesturing to his pack of Greek flashcards, Turner added, “And I suppose it’s time to talk to him about that Bible translation we’re using. Ugh.”

Out on a hospital visit, Rev. Price was unavailable for comment.

If you have ears to hear, then hear.

In sum, there are pitfalls to reveling in too much satire or cultural critique. But as I will argue now, I hardly see such dangers as damning to all satire.


Personally, few (if any) Babylon Bee stories strike me as either mean-spirited or cynical.

They’re funny. And in most cases, there appears to be a light-hearted twinkle in the author’s unseen eye.

As contributor Michael Coughlin remarks in the story from the Washington Post:

“You can be satirical without being cruel.”

And as Jon Acuff states:

“Sometimes the best satire is tempered by love.”

In fact, the Bible itself employs examples of humor, satire, irony, and even sarcasm (see 1 Cor. 4.8-13; Isa. 40.19-20; Jer. 46.11; 1 Kgs. 18.27; Mt. 7.5).

As Walter Kaiser, one of my old Seminary Profs, once said: Humor can help the message go down, like a parent who makes faces at a child in a high chair as a way of getting them to smile, open their mouth, and insert the food or medicine.

Along these lines, Terry Lindvall, author of God Mocks: A History of Religious Satire from the Hebrew Prophets to Stephen Colbert, claims that satirists often act like prophets, helping believers see where they’ve gone astray.

You can be a prophet with solemn pronouncement. Or you can be prophet with comic pronouncements.

This is true.  But I also think that “speaking prophetically” can be a euphemism–at least as I have used it–for “being a self-righteous jerk.”

Real prophets are more likely to be sawn in two than retweeted.


So what’s the big idea?

By my judgment, satire cannot sanctify us. Only God can. And he does it by his word and Spirit.

Yet perhaps God sometimes uses well-placed satire as a way of opening our eyes to realities that need attention. Or perhaps he uses it to keep us from taking ourselves too seriously. As Martin Luther liked to say:

“Mock the devil, and he will flee from you.”

There are dangers, of course, like cynicism and self-righteous meanness. But in my view, such problems need not be inherent.

So now for the important question:

What’s your favorite Bee headline?

The Naked God: The Cross and Body Shame

The Naked God: The Cross and Body Shame

The Romans crucified their victims naked.

Indeed, the Gospels may even imply this when noting that soldiers cast lots for Christ’s clothing. Still, the thought of a naked Jesus splayed out before the world is uncomfortable to us. And rightly so. You will not find this painting in your Christian bookstore.

Along these lines, I recall (years ago) a fellow student asking a professor about the possibility that Christ hung naked on the cross. The teacher was incensed. “Of course not! To even think so is offensive!”

While I appreciated the concern for modesty, I remember thinking that the whole nailing-an-innocent-man-to-a-cross part was pretty offensive too. Yet it happened.

To reflect on this nakedness, however, does seem crass, unless there is some insight to be gained. And I think there is.

It has to do with bodies, shame, and those who have been made to feel less than human.[1]

P: Claudio Ungari


According to psychologists, we feel guilt for wrongs we have done. Yet we feel shame for who we are at some deep level. The concepts are related, but distinct.

Unfortunately, while guilt can be atoned for by punishment or making amends, shame clings to us more tenaciously. It lodges in our minds and in our marrow. It is the difference between “I have done wrong” and “I am wrong.”[2]

For Gershen Kaufman:

To feel shame is to feel seen in a painfully diminished sense. The self feels exposed both to itself and to anyone present. [It] is the piercing awareness of ourselves as fundamentally deficient in some vital way as a human being.[3]

While certain forms of shame may be warranted, this pervasive kind is deadly.


In the Bible, shame is linked to nakedness. It didn’t start this way (Gen. 2.25), but when Adam eats the fruit he feels exposed. He was never clothed, of course, but now he feels it. So he seeks to cover himself. Enter fig leaves. In fact, the stated fear is not punishment, but being seen undressed.

“I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid” (Gen. 3.10).

The problem is shame, but the feeling is a body that we want to hide.


Today, the trend continues. In our culture, a common cause of shame is the body itself, especially as it fails to conform to rigid standards of perfection: models, magazines, ubiquitous pornography, and the crucible of comparison. These days, not even the perfect people are perfect enough, as evidenced by the need to airbrush them.

So while the apostle Paul once assumed that “no one ever hated his own body” (Eph. 5.29), our culture shouts back: “Speak for yourself!”

It is unsurprising then that so many of our shame words relate to the body.

  • fat,
  • weak,
  • pudgy,
  • plain,
  • pock-marked,
  • bald,
  • scarred,
  • flat,
  • freak,
  • repulsive,
  • and many racial slurs I will not write.

Whatever postmodernity is, it is definitely post-Eden.


Then there is the realm of sexual shame.

The statistics are staggering: Twenty-five percent of girls will be sexually abused before they turn eighteen. One in five women will be raped, and 325,000 children will be victims of sex trafficking this year.

For many of us, the numbers include faces that we recognize. Indeed, the pain becomes more personal when listening, as I have, to a student say the following: “I was raped by my first boyfriend. We met at church. No one believed me.”


Increasingly, the “Hunting Ground” for sexual assaults are college campuses (see here), where a mix of alcohol, partying, and attempts to hush or blame the victims often combine to add one shame upon another. Over such campuses, the question tolls like a funeral bell: “Where can I go to be rid of my disgrace?”

And that is not to mention the myriad of consensual encounters that leave one or both persons feeling objectified, used, and cast aside.

It is not called the “walk of shame” for nothing.


But what does this have to do with the shameful nudity of Christ upon the cross?


Ancient graffito, mocking Christians. Note the naked buttocks of the Christ-figure, with the head of a donkey. P: Jason M. Kelly

As one scholar writes:

The whole point of Roman crucifixion was to reduce the victim to the status of a thing, stripping him of every vestige of human dignity, in order to discourage any challenging of the might of Rome.[4] 

The key idea is this: We do not have a Jesus who merely bears our guilt and sin. Nor merely one who conquers death and devils. Nor merely one who loves without exceptions.

In addition to all this, Christ also enters into our deepest experience of shame and nakedness. He was mocked and laid bare not only before tormenters, but before his weeping mother! It does not get more shameful.

So hear this: To the bullied teen who cowers in the bathroom stall, to the victim of sexual assault who feels blamed for someone else’s crime, and to all others made to feel the weight of heaped-on shame, Christ says: “I KNOW.” I have been there.

I am Christus nudus (“the naked Christ”), not merely Christus victor (“Christ the victor”).

The cross is “God’s shame-bearing symbol for the world.”[5]

Upon it, the second Adam assumed the nakedness of the first, for as Gregory of Nazianzen wrote: “The unassumed is the unhealed.” We need a God who bears our shame. And we have one in the naked Christ.


But it does not end there.

After the resurrection, the New Testament pictures salvation as being clothed. Yet the clothing is not of earthly garments, but “with Christ” (Rom. 13.14). Paul saw this as taking place at baptism (Gal. 3.27).

Thus the early church even began what may seem like a strange practice.

Converts were baptized naked in imitation of a Christ who hung naked on the cross. In response to this, Saint Jerome’s (347–420 AD) oft-repeated motto for the Christian lifestyle read as follows:

nudus nudum Jesum Sequi” (naked to follow a naked Christ).

Because of Jesus, the metaphor of nakedness was transformed from a mark of shame to a metaphor of purity, innocence, and life-giving vulnerability (on that last bit, see here).

This is so because, on the cross, Christ not only bore our shame, he “scorned” it (Heb. 12.2).

This is indeed good news.

Christus nudus; Christus victor.



[1] For a mountain of research on this topic, see the published doctoral dissertation of Dan Lé, The Naked Christ: An Atonement Model for a Body Obsessed Culture (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012).

[2] See T. Mark McConnell, “From ‘I Have Done Wrong’ to ‘I am Wrong’,” in Locating Atonement: Explorations in Constructive Dogmatics, eds. Oliver Crisp and Fred Sanders (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015).

[3] Gershen Kaufman, Shame: The Power of Caring (Cambridge, MA: Schenkman, 1985), ix–x.

[4] Philip Cunningham, Jesus and the Evangelists (New York: Paulist, 1988), 187.

[5] Robert Albers, “The Shame Factor: Theological and Pastoral Reflections Relating to Forgiveness,” Word & World 16:3 (June 1, 1996), 352.

Love thy transgender neighbor. And thy other neighbors also.

Love thy transgender neighbor. And thy other neighbors also.

Who knew that in 2016 the most disputed space in America would be a public toilet?

Whereas previously we would have been thrilled if someone merely cleaned such bathrooms, in recent weeks a number of policies have emerged to manage access to these sacred stalls.


From progressives (and most notably Target), there was a move to allow essentially anyone to use the bathroom of their choice, provided that they claim to be transgender. This was done in the name of tolerance, while occasioning concerns for public safety. After all, some say, what is to prevent a deviant person from claiming to be trans in order to occupy the women’s restroom? Cries of “boycott!” soon followed.

Likewise, from social conservatives, there were a series of “bathroom bills” requiring that a person use the restroom corresponding to the gender on their birth certificate, or face penalties. This was done in the name of safety, while occasioning charges of transphobia. After all, many asked, is it really necessary to force the trans woman in a long dress, makeup, and high heels to use the male restroom or face fines? Who will enforce this? Shouts of “bigotry!” ensued.

What do I think?


As a Christian, I have deeply held beliefs about God’s design for gender and sexuality. I do not force these views on others, of course, but neither am I ashamed of them. Therefore it perplexes me that our culture increasingly sees gender as something detached from physical reality. (In the case of intersex births, the situation is more complex, but I am not talking about that here.) For both biological and theological reasons, my view is plain: physicality, not feelings, determines gender.

Yet at the same time, at the core of the Christian gospel is a call to LOVE thy neighbor. And that includes transgender persons too.

A few points here:

  • We can love while disagreeing.
  • Disagreement isn’t hate.
  • True tolerance is not synonymous with approval.
  • And love is always more than tolerance.

Indeed, one can tolerate others while despising them, but love requires more. Love reaches out, listens, protects, and serves. And love may also reason and disagree, for love refuses to be apathetic toward the beloved.

So back to the question:


Which side am I on in the great bathroom war of 2016?

Am I with those shouting “boycott!” or those claiming “bigotry!”?

As some might ask: “Are you for us or for our enemies?” (Joshua 5.13)

In response, I would quote the next line from the above passage: “Neither” (vs.14).

My reason has to do with the fact that neither stated concern is entirely groundless, even while I find the methodology of some on both sides troubling.

With regard to the progressive concern (not the policy), it does not seem unreasonable, in public spaces, for us to calmly allow the trans woman, who in many cases has gone to great lengths to appear as female, to use the women’s toilets in peace. After all, where do you think she has been going? It’s not a marriage proposal. It’s a bathroom stall. So love thy transgender neighbor.

Likewise, with regard to the conservative concern, it isn’t hateful to have qualms about a blanket policy that makes all bathrooms open to all persons. To have such safety or privacy worries does not make one a bigot. Nor does it make one transphobic, since the object of anxiety (in the best cases) is not the average trans person, but those others who might abuse the policy. In fact, to hold this position may simply be an effort to love thy other neighbors also, especially women and children. (Hence the title of this post.)

In sum, neither of these basic concerns seems plainly wrong.

So what is problematic?


In my view, the trouble magnifies when both sides adopt heavy-handed policies (or laws) that cause more problems than they solve.

One side creates potential loopholes for sexual deviants, while whipping up the religious right into a boycott-happy frenzy. And the other places rigid requirements and penalties on a population that, for the most part, just wants to live in peace. Both results are bad. And when this furor erupts, it provides yet more fuel to the (absurd) progressive meme that traditional morality is the new Jim Crow.

Everyone loses, except those who use such controversies to their own ends.

So what would be a more responsible solution?


In a more civil society, neither side would feel the need to legislate (or policy-push) this issue in a heavy-handed manner.

In a more civil society, people who have transitioned to a particular gender identity would be loved and respected enough to use the public bathrooms in peace, without a birth certificate, without fear, and without the need for sweeping legislation.

I find this reasonable, not because I agree that gender is socially constructed, but because we should also be concerned for the safety of the trans person, who may be harassed (or worse) if they use the bathroom of their birth sex. Many of these people have been violently bullied, and Christians should stand against this violence as strongly we stand for our own convictions. We can do both.

Likewise, in a more civil society, the privacy and safety of other citizens (i.e. thy other neighbors) would be respected enough to halt the official abolition of our gender binaries. Such blanket policies do cause safety and privacy concerns, and they should not be adopted.


So, am I naïve to think that we could handle this public bathroom issue without sweeping legislation from either side?


My approach shows no signs of being adopted.

Still, whatever happens, the way of Jesus calls us to be people of grace and truth. And that means loving our transgendered neighbors as well as seeking to protect our other neighbors also.

A civil society could do both. And as Christians, we should strive for that.


NB: If you comment, be respectful.