The Foolishness of Following Jesus (When Everyone Else Has Their Own Version)

When Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde recently called for mercy and compassion in response to political violence, the reaction was swift and severe. Fellow Christians labeled her "radical left," "deranged," and "evil." Some even called for her deportation or made death threats. Her crime? Echoing the words of Jesus about loving enemies and showing mercy.

This response reveals a deeper tension within modern Christianity - what does it actually mean to be "foolish for Christ" in an age when that phrase has been coopted to justify both compassion and cruelty?

The Original Foolishness

The Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Corinth about how the message of the cross appeared as foolishness to the sophisticated Greek philosophers and powerful Romans of his day. A crucified Messiah? A God who becomes human and dies? A community that welcomes slaves as equals? Preposterous.

"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God... For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength." (1 Corinthians 1:18, 25)

The early Christian communities were considered dangerous and subversive precisely because they upended the social order in radical ways:

• They rescued abandoned infants left to die of exposure
• They welcomed people across ethnic and class boundaries
• They elevated the status of women, children, and slaves
• They cared for the sick during plagues while others fled
• They shared resources in common and cared for the poor

As sociologist Rodney Stark has documented, Christianity grew not through military conquest or political power, but through patient, persistent acts of mercy that demonstrated an alternative way of being human together. This "foolishness" eventually transformed the Roman Empire from the bottom up.

The False Foolishness

However, after centuries of being the dominant cultural power in America, cruelty is now counted as mercy; and mercy as demented. This dynamic played out just recently in my own experience. When I called out a blatantly homophobic comment on my church’s social media, the response was telling: "This isn't homophobia, these are just biblical principles." This sleight of hand - rebranding cruelty as righteousness - has become all too common. Hatred and exclusion are wrapped in religious language and presented as "godly foolishness."

But we can't let the religious right's persecution complex (despite being one of the most privileged groups in society) invalidate the authentic foolishness of following Jesus. Just because someone falsely claims persecution doesn't mean that standing with the marginalized doesn't still carry real costs. A lie about persecution doesn't negate the reality that advocating for "the least of these" often puts one at odds with religious and political power structures.

The fact that someone claims persecution doesn't automatically make them right - we have to look at the fruit. Are they being criticized for including too many people or excluding them? For showing too much mercy or too little? For threatening power structures or reinforcing them?

The Future of Foolishness

So what does authentic Christian foolishness look like today? I believe it means:

• Standing with the marginalized and oppressed
• Building radically inclusive communities
• Pursuing economic justice and shared abundance
• Working for racial equity and reparation
• Welcoming immigrants and refugees
• Affirming LGBTQ+ people fully
• Choosing love over fear, mercy over judgment
• Speaking truth to power, even at personal cost

This is foolishness that carries a cost. It may mean losing social status, church positions, or relationships. It often means being labeled "woke," "liberal," or "heretical" by other Christians. It could come at actual social, financial, and physical costs. But it's a foolishness that aligns with Jesus's own ministry to those on the margins.

The costs of this kind of foolishness are not theoretical for me. Being openly antiracist or affirming of LGBTQ+ people and advocating for their full inclusion in the church has closed countless doors in my pastoral career. Entire denominations, networks, and congregations become instant non-options the moment you declare that God's love and calling extend to all, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity. Or when you call for the dismantling of whiteness. Job interviews end abruptly. Long-time ministry relationships grow cold. Friends stop returning calls.

But these are small costs to pay. When I consider the far greater price that LGBTQ+ people have paid - rejection from families, expulsion from churches, spiritual trauma, loss of community - my career limitations seem trivial in comparison. If being "biblical" means maintaining access to power and position by staying silent in the face of exclusion and harm, then perhaps we need to reconsider what that word means. The Jesus I read about in Scripture consistently chose solidarity with the excluded over religious respectability.

The early Christians transformed their world not through political power or cultural dominance, but through sacrificial love and radical inclusion. They built hospitals, established orphanages, shared resources, crossed social boundaries. Their patient, persistent foolishness eventually reshaped society.

Today's church faces a similar choice - will we choose the false foolishness of power, exclusion and self-preservation? Or will we embrace the authentic foolishness of the cross - foolish enough to believe that love is stronger than hate, that mercy triumphs over judgment, that the last shall be first, and that the way of Jesus still has the power to transform our world?

The gospel will always appear as foolishness to the powers that be. The question is whether we're being foolish in the right way, for the right reasons, alongside the right people. May we have the courage to be truly, authentically foolish for Christ.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​