Viewpoints: Not Christian Enough by Rebecca H. Davis

"I don't really care what you believe," said the minister and, with those words, I knew that I could join the church we've been visiting. "I think it's more important to be Christ-like than to say you believe any specific thing," the minister elaborated.

I felt liberated. Our Sunday School class had been discussing what it means to be a church. The minister had suggested that the church is "a community of true believers." The class had focused on what it means to be a community and the relational nature of church. But I was hung-up on the phrase "true believers." I wanted to know if I fit within this category of persons who were allowed to enter the community of the church. Was I a True Believer?

I got stuck on this phrase and whether or not I would be granted admittance in large part because of my experience with the homeschool community. So many homeschool support groups define what it means to be a True Believer. Most of these do so in "Statements of Faith" that have to be signed in duplicate, witnessed and notarized in order for an applicant homeschooler to join. As I've read many of these statements of faith and considered participation in some of these support groups, I've all too often found that, despite the fact that I am a born-again Christian, my system of beliefs just doesn't cut-the-mustard. I'm evidently not Christian enough.

I am so troubled by these Statements of Faith, by their purpose, their content, their narrow, rigid definitions of Christianity, by their exclusivity and, most of all, by their unfairness to the children of parents who can't or won't sign.

Recently, my family moved to a new community. It appears that the only homeschool support group in our area is a large, Christian group with a very conservative "Statement of Faith." When I read it, I wrote the group leader and asked if it wasn't possible for my children to participate in the group's activities, even though I didn't feel comfortable with their statement. I pointed out that I believed that I probably had a lot of common ground with the members of the group, that I had been a member of a mainstream Protestant denomination for the last twenty-eight years. I was told that my children and I were not welcome.

My kids are not allowed to attend Park Day or to go roller skating with the other local homeschoolers because I don't believe in the inerrancy of the Bible and our local group has determined that that belief is central to what it means to be a Christian. This is so completely unfair to my children, who need the fellowship of other homeschooled children. Further, my kids have not yet made up their minds what they believe. Their faith is still developing. One day, they might be able to sign this particular Statement of Faith. But because I can't sign it now, they aren't allowed to interact with the other homeschooled children in our community. My children are being punished-ostracized-because of my beliefs (or lack thereof).

In the community we have moved from, several homeschooling friends of mine participate in a co-op exclusively for believers. In the time that I have known these women, they have talked with me about rampant
problems with cheating at their co-op and about problems with several students vandalizing the church in which they meet. One student carved a Confederate Flag into a wood table with a knife; another set a fire inside a Sunday School room. As I listen to these stories, I think about the fact that only "believers" are allowed to send their children and I wonder what problems this policy really keeps out. Believers' children are no more perfect than non-believers' children. Would it really hurt to admit the children of non-believers?

Another woman who runs a different co-op, also exclusively for "believers," told me about the trials of a female teacher not handling her grievances in a very Christian manner. Again, I wondered what good it does to exclude non-believers?

"Just go ahead and sign the stupid thing," said my friend Debbie. "It's not like anyone refers to it later or anything," she argued, encouraging me to sign my name to the Statement of Faith for our local support group.

"I'm afraid I'll be outed," I replied. "Sooner or later someone will know that I don't really believe in the inerrancy of the Bible and it will all be over." I know this would be the case because I have this incredibly nasty habit of being honest, of saying what I think.

Though I don't judge my friend for signing a statement of faith with which she doesn't agree in order to gain admittance for her children into the local activities-we all need support-I object to the way that these statements of faith encourage this lying and hypocrisy. I wonder how many people who sign them really do believe in all six (or five or nine or whatever) enumerated principles in the statement. I've had more than one friend tell me that they've signed a statement of faith with which they didn't agree. Doesn't the fact that some-perhaps even many-who sign these statements secretly don't believe what they are signing render them meaningless?

These statements don't ask if we have an ongoing relationship with
Christ, if we're striving to be Christ-like, they don't ask if we live with integrity, if we teach our children about justice, sharing and playing by the rules, they ask about things like whether or not we believe in Creationism or the inerrancy of the Bible. These are not statements of faith, but statements of belief. They're statements of a mindset, not a statement about the nature of our relationship with a loving Christ. They're about what's in our minds, not what's in our hearts.

If I were asked to respect the beliefs of others, to recognize the centrality of those beliefs to them, to abide by certain Christ-like codes of conduct, I would have no problems joining in, but because I am not a conservative, evangelical Christian, I'm not welcome in many Christian homeschool circles. As a Christian, I resent the fact that some Christians have defined Christianity within the homeschool movement in such a narrow way that other Christians do not fit the definition.

What right does any group of us have to decree "this is what it means to be a Christian," to set the bar in this way and to exclude others who have a relationship with Christ? We are all, after all, one body.

I do believe that it is perfectly valid for a Christian group to decree that all curriculum, for example, in a co-op will be taught from a particular perspective (Creationism, for example), but I think it is distinctly un-Christ-like to decree that only certain people are allowed to come to the table, to take the class. Jesus is reported to have said "Suffer the children" not "Suffer the children whose parents believe."

Often I read the statements proffered by homeschool support groups and I ask myself whether Christ himself would require a person to believe the principles enumerated in these documents. Somehow, I think not. Jesus never said "Come to me all who labor and are heavy-laden and who also believe in the inerrancy of the Bible." Jesus simply said "Come." His call was inclusive. Shouldn't ours be?

We are called by Christ to reach out to and interact with others. Yet, so many Christian homeschoolers band together, stake out their territory and defend it by excluding others who are potential allies and friends, turning away fellow sojourners who could not only benefit from but also contribute to the fellowship they enjoy.

Tonight, at a used book sale, I met the local support group leader who told me (through email correspondence) that my children and I weren't welcome. She apologized for having to exclude us, shrugging fatalistically as if she had no other choice. She told me that she prayed that God was working on me. I bit holes in my tongue. I refrained from telling her how insulting I found her presumptiveness. I put aside all the anger, bitterness and hurt I felt at feeling isolated in my new community and at having trouble finding playmates for my very sweet, loving children. To do otherwise, I knew, would only serve as an "I told you so" in her mind. "You really can't trust those people who call themselves Christians but who don't believe in the inerrancy of the Bible," I imagined her saying. Instead, I tried to heed the advice of my new minister and focus on being Christ-like. I smiled and thanked her and walked away without giving her a piece of my mind.

As I search for new friends that won't discriminate against me and my children because of our beliefs, I take solace in the fact that I have found at least one Christian community-my new church-that is inclusive and, in the meantime, just as the local homeschool leader prays that God will be working on me and my unbelieving heart, I'll pray for her, praying that she and her group will be challenged to open their hearts and their doors.

About the author: Rebecca H. Davis, Ph.D. is the author of Women and Power in Parliamentary Democracies (University of Nebraska, 1997) and the editor of Stand! Contending Perspectives in Comparative Politics (Coursewise Publishers, 2000). She homeschools her two children, owns and operates her own business in Greenville, South Carolina, and does freelance writing, web design and graphic arts work in her spare time. She and her family live in Tamassee, South Carolina.