Has anyone else noted that Christian’s seem to be getting a little . . . touchy? I don’t know, maybe some are still simmering over the election (though most of the Christians I know voted for Obama). Maybe because of the economy? Maybe Darwin’s recent birthday.  Somehow Christians seem to feel a little defensive. A little “us against them,” like during the “culture wars” of the past.

The headline jumped out at me as I looked up to the Conversant Life site on my screen: “Can Christians be Darwinists?”  I was surprised. Do people somewhere in America still actually use the term “Darwinists?” What would happen if I casually walked up to a group of my friends and asked “hey, any of you guys Darwinists!?!” With all due respect and honor, I just honestly don’t get it. I noticed that the “Darwinist” blog stayed in the “most discussed” list for weeks, so it must be important to people. But I wonder, who do we think we are?

I was in a meeting a few weeks ago when people were talking about “engaging culture.” They were evangelical Christians, with beautiful hearts and a very sincere hope. One person declared “we are aliens in Babylon and we must engage these people and their culture.” Someone else agreed, noting they were “in this world, but not of it.” I found myself with tears in my eyes. Some like to use Babylon as a metaphor for American culture. Christians are supposed to invade and change it. Frankly, I find this demeaning.

I have to confess something to the readers of this blog: I’m a native Babylonian. I was born of Babylonians, raised in Babylonian schools, nurtured by Babylonian media.  I went to Babylonian Colleges and live next to Babylonian neighbors. My heart language is Babylonian, and when pressed, I will swear colorfully in fluent Babylonian. I love Babylonian food. I listen to Babylonian music every day and watch Babylonian film whenever I get the chance.  

I’m grateful that God has touched my heart, that I know I’m loved in Him and that at some point, I’ll be face to face with Him. I know that He has given me a clean heart and is in the process of renewing my mind. Wonderful! True! How cool! And yet. I don’t deny my culture or my people. I can’t! I’m not able to invade this land because it’s already mine. God has changed my heart, to be sure. But that means I’m a Babylonian with love in my heart, newly equipped to walk with my people in my land.

I wrote this poem on the train home, thinking carefully about who I am.

I’m a native Babylonian

Born with blood from others like me

A strong Babylonian mother who clothed and fed

Cultured by my media, a shaved disciple before a glowing screen

I breathed in unison, initiated into the cult of this land

My heart dreams in Babylonian.

Not sure what to think when others

Further along than I

Declare their proud independence

“I am in this world, but not of it, a stranger in a strange land!”

Sipping a no-foam Starbucks and glancing at their Seiko.

I still unbuckle my discolored jeans

They quietly pile on the cold tile floor around my ankles

I sit on a white Babylonian throne

Relieving myself from the burdens of waste

Thin paper wipes the excess, fragrant soap and warm water combine to clean

A daily reminder of where I’m from.

I can’t invade this land

A missionary zealot with appropriate passion

I’m one of them and this land is already mine

I’m changed, yes, I am newly alive

A clean heart fixed to a renewing mind.

But I know my stripes

I know my noise and my quietness

I have hope for where I go

I walk newly now

But as a Babylonian with love

Among my people.