The beauty and complexity of finding common ground

So our story started several years ago,

when my wife and I
got a complaint letter in the mail

from an anonymous neighbor.

(Laughter)

I'll never forget the way
my wife transformed before my eyes

from this graceful, peaceful, sweet woman

into just an angry mother grizzly bear
whose cubs needed to be protected.

It was intense.

So here's what happened.

This is our family.

This is my wife and I
and our five awesome kids.

We're pretty loud,
we're pretty rambunctious,

we're us.

You'll notice, though,
that two of our children

look a little different than Mary and I,

and that's because they came to us
through adoption.

Our neighbor, though,
saw two different-looking children

playing outside of our house every day

and came to the conclusion

that we must have been running
an illegal day care out of our home.

(Murmuring)

We were really angry to have
our children stereotyped like that,

but I know that's a relatively
minor example of racial profiling.

But isn't it sometimes
what we all tend to do

with people who think differently,

or believe differently
or maybe even vote differently?

Instead of engaging as true neighbors,

we keep our distance

and our actions towards those

are guided by who we think
sees the world as we do

or who we think doesn't.

See, what my neighbor suffered from
is a condition called agonism.

And sometimes we all suffer
from the same condition.

It's not a medical condition,
but it is contagious.

So let's talk a little bit
about what agonism is.

My favorite definition of agonism

is taking a warlike stance
in contexts that are not literally war.

Agonism comes from the same
Greek root word "agon"

from which we get "agony."

How very appropriate.

We all tend to show symptoms of agonism

when we hold on
to two deeply held beliefs,

first identified by author Rick Warren.

The first one is that if love someone,

we must agree with all they do or believe.

And the second is the inverse,

that if we disagree with someone,

it must mean that we fear or we hate them.

Not sure we really recognize the agony
this way of thinking brings to us,

when our relationships die

because we think
we have to agree or disagree

no matter what.

Think about the conversations
we've had around Brexit,

or Hong Kong,

maybe Israeli settlements
or perhaps impeachment.

I bet we could all think
of at least one personal relationship

that's been strained or maybe even ended
because of these topics,

or tragically,

over a topic much more trivial than those.

The cure for agonism is not out of reach.

The question is how.

So might I suggest two strategies

that my experience
has taught me to start with.

First, cultivate common ground,

which means focusing on what we share.

I want you to know I'm using my words
very, very deliberately.

By "cultivate," I mean
we have to intentionally work

to find common ground with someone.

Just like a farmer works
to cultivate the soil.

And common ground is a common term,

so let me at least explain
what I don't mean,

which is I don't mean by common ground
that we were exact,

or that we totally agree and approve.

All I mean is that we find
one unifying thing

that we can have in a relationship
in common with another person.

You know, sometimes
that one thing is hard to find.

So I'd like to share a personal story,

but before I do,

let me tell you a little bit
more about myself.

I'm Caucasian,

cisgender male,

middle class, evangelical Christian.

And I know, as soon as some
of those words came out of my mouth,

some of you had some perceptions about me.

And it's OK,

I know that not all
those perceptions are positive.

But for those who share my faith,

know that I'm about
to cut across the grain.

And you may tune me out as well.

So as we go,

if you're having a hard time hearing me,

I just gently ask that you reflect

and see if you're buying into agonism.

If you're rejecting me

simply because you think
you see the world differently than I do,

because isn't that
what we're here talking about?

Alright, ready?

So I've been thinking a lot
about how to find common ground

in the area of gender fluidity,

as an evangelical Christian.

For Christians like me,

we believe that God
created us man and woman.

And even if all you believe
is in an intelligent designer,

you might think that to change,
for us to change our gender,

would be for us to take the place of God.

But I know that those
who believe in gender fluidity

feel very differently.

And please hear me,

they are courageously operating
in the most natural way they can

to be true to who they believe
they were created to be.

So what do I do?

Do I throw up my hands and say,

"I can't have a relationship
with anybody who is transgender

or LGBTQIA?"

No.

That would be giving into agonism.

So I started looking
at the foundational aspects of my faith,

the first of which

is that of the three billion genes
that make us human --

and by the way, we share
99.9 percent of those genes --

that I believe those three billion genes
are the result of an intelligent designer.

And that immediately gives me
common ground with anybody.

What it also gives me ...

is the belief that each
and every one of us

have been given the right to life

by that same intelligent designer.

I dug deeper though.

I found that my faith didn't teach me

to start relationships
by arguing with somebody

until they believed what I believed,

or I convinced them.

No, it taught me to start relationships

by loving them as a co-equal member
of the human race.

Honestly though,

some who share my faith draw a line

and refuse to address somebody
by their preferred gender pronoun.

But isn't that believing the lie
that in order for me to honor you,

I have to give up what I believe?

Come back in time with me --

let's say it's 20 years ago,

and Muhammad Ali comes to your doorstep.

And you open the door.

Would you address him as Muhammad Ali

or his former name of Cassius Clay?

I'm guessing that most of you
would say Muhammad Ali.

And I'm also guessing that most of you

wouldn't think we'd have to
immediately convert to Islam,

just by using his name.

To honor him would cost me,
would cost any of us

absolutely nothing,

and it would give us the common ground
to have a relationship.

And it's the relationship
that cures agonism,

not giving up what we believe.

So for me to honor my faith,

it means rejecting
these rigid symptoms of agonism.

Meaning, I can and I will love you.

I can and I will accept you

and I don't have to buy into the lie

that if I do these things,
I have to give up what I believe

or chose to fear and hate you.

Because I'm focusing
on what we have in common.

When you can find even the smallest bit
of common ground with somebody,

it allows you to understand
just the beautiful wonder

and complexity

and majesty of the other person.

Our second strategy

gives us room to (Inhales)

breathe.

To pause.

To calm down.

To have the kind of relationships
that cure agonism.

And how to keep those relationships alive.

Our second strategy is to exchange
extravagant grace.

(Laughs)

Once again, I'm not mincing words --

by grace, I don't mean
we should all go sign up for ballet,

that would be weird.

(Laughter)

What I mean is not canceling
everything over one mistake.

Even if that mistake
personally offended you.

Maybe even deeply.

Perhaps Holocaust survivor
Corrie ten Boom put it best

when she said,

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free,

only to realize that prisoner was me."

My faith teaches me that we humans
will never be perfect,

myself very much included.

So we need the grace of a savior,

who for me is Jesus.

And while I define grace
in the context of my faith,

I know there's a lot of other people
who have defined it differently,

and in different ways.

One of my favorites is radio broadcaster
Oswald Hoffman, who said,

"Grace is the love that loves the unlovely

and the unlovable."

And I just love that picture of grace.

Because I know I am,

and maybe a lot of you can think of a time

when we're just pretty dadgum unlovable.

So it would be the height of hypocrisy,

dare I say repulsive to my faith,

for me to accept

the unconditional, unqualified
grace and love from God

and then turn around

and put one precondition
on the love I give you.

What in the world would I be thinking?

And by extravagant, I mean over the top,

not just checking a box.

We can all remember when we were kids

and our parents forced us
to apologize to somebody

and we walked up to them
and said, (Angrily) "I'm sorry."

We just got it over with, right?

That's not what we're talking about.

What we're talking about
is not having to give someone grace,

but choosing to and wanting to.

That's how we exchange extravagant grace.

Listen, I know this can sound
really, really theoretical.

So I'd like to tell you
about a hero of mine.

A hero of grace.

It's 2014.

In Iran.

And the mother of a murdered son
is in a public square.

The man who murdered her son
is also in that square,

by a gallows,

on a chair of some kind,

a noose around his neck,

and a blindfold over his eyes.

Samereh Alinejad

had been given the sole right
under the laws of her country

to either pardon this man

or initiate his execution.

Put another way, she could pardon him

or literally push that chair
out from underneath his feet.

(Exhales)

I just ...

I can't picture the agony
going through both Samereh and this man

at the time.

Samereh with her choice to make,

and this man, in the account
that I read, was just weeping,

just begging for forgiveness.

And Samereh had a choice.

And she chose in that moment
to walk up to this man

and to slap him right across the face.

And that signaled her pardon.

It gets better.

Right afterwards, somebody asked her,

they interviewed her,
and she was quoted as saying,

"I felt as if rage vanished
from within my heart

and the blood in my veins
began to flow again."

Isn't that incredible?

I mean, what a picture of grace,
what a hero of grace.

And there's a lesson in there
for all of us.

That as theologian John Piper said,

"Grace is power, not just pardon."

And if you think about it,

grace is the gift we give
someone else in a relationship

that says our relationship
is way more important

that the things that separate us.

And if you really think
about it some more,

we all have the power to execute
in our relationships,

or to pardon.

We never did find out
the identity of our anonymous neighbor.

(Laughter)

But if we did, I'd hope we'd simply say,

"Can we have coffee?"

And maybe there's somebody
you need to have coffee with

and find your common ground with them.

Or maybe there's somebody
you're in a relationship with

and you need to exchange
extravagant grace.

Maybe go first.

These two strategies have taught me

how to exchange extravagant grace
in my relationships

and to enjoy the beautiful design
of my neighbors.

I want to continue to choose
relationships over agonism.

Will you choose to join me?

Thank you.

(Applause)