I have a difficult time thinking of any good surrounding the word sectarian.
What annoys most is when the word applies to me. I’m not dumb. I see far too much of it in my actions.
Its synonyms are insular, little, narrow-minded, parochial, petty, provincial, narrow, small, and small minded. These bits of poison are not words I associate with Jesus.
I grew up in the New Mexico desert with rattle snakes. Camouflage makes a rattler almost invisible on the desert floor. The snake presents no problem to humans unless it perceives a warm, human body is too close for comfort.
From its hidden ambush, it can strike a near fatal blow.
The rattler’s lightning speed reminds me of my vulnerability to my acquired sectarian nature.
It seems to be the times when I least expect it that I am attacked. It happens so quickly.
I wasn’t born a sectarian. I learned it from youth. I learned from those who most loved me and whom I most loved.
I learned my little group had a corner on the Jesus market. We were the only ones who “really” followed Jesus.
These wonderful people of pure motives taught me what they assumed was true. They had pure hearts. They loved God and God loved them.
Inadvertently, their doctrine was wrong.
They saw truth as a position rather than as Jesus. For a portion of my life, I too saw truth as a conclusion instead of Christ. Thankfully, Jesus is bigger than my errors and loves me in spite of some of the wrong things I believed—or now believe—to be true.
In the same manner, I acquired the sin of racism.
Often, I think of my battle with a sectarian spirit as parallel to my struggle with racism. It is impossible to be free of all manifestations of racism due to the time of my birth and formation—like it or not—I acquired the sin of racism. Hopefully, I see it less frequently in my life.
Like my sectarian spirit—when I think I can refer to it as a sin of the past—it rises up and takes a bite out of my soul.
I love to see the social integration of today’s youth. Likewise, it thrills me to see the puzzled expression on the face of our young people when parents and grandparents fall prey anew to a sectarian spirit.
Their blank stares tell me they don’t get my divisive attitude.
Once again, I am glad God sees me through the blood of His Son.
May words like insular, little, narrow-minded, parochial, petty, provincial, and small, be used less and less as Christ followers unite to worship the King and to demonstrate His heart to our fellow travelers.
Stay tuned.
Gary J. Sorrells – Reflection on the Cross Church
God Reflection 