Day 46 (part 1)- Damnations and Donuts

Total Mileage: 5,283

Song of the Day:

"Looking for a Friend" (David Bowie)

Book of the Day:

Doctrine (Mark Driscoll)--

At least, this would be the book of the day if they had given me that free copy!

Disclaimer:

It's Westboro stuff again, so the three-letter F-word will once again be in my pictures for what is hopefully the last time.  I'm sorry that this word has stained a few of my blog entries.  I consider it one of the ugliest and most needless words in the English language, but sadly, some folks still see the need to throw it around.  I don't think Westboro will be showing up in any more of my travels though, so this will probably be the last time I have to address them and the last time I have to acknowledge the three-letter F-word.

You know, sometimes on this trip, I’ve found myself hunting for a story.  I try to take a group or a person about which there is some sort of prevailing stereotype or assumption, and then I try to reexamine that assumption by giving that group or person an honest listen and hearing what they really have to say.  I may have sort of secretly been hoping to do that with Westboro.  I may have secretly been hoping to find some tiny nugget of redeemability.  As they launched into a parody of Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” (“Stop praying!  Stop praying!  God will not hear you anymore!”), I realized that such a nugget does not exist.  I’m just going to go ahead and lay it out there:

Damn, these people need Jesus.

Mark Driscoll seems to share my opinion, and I want to go ahead and point out that giving Westboro coffee and donuts was totally my idea first (see my blog post from Day 33), but I don’t really care about credit.  I’m just glad someone finally implemented it, and the fact that it was a pastor as famously combative as Mark Driscoll is the testosterone on the steak.  In fact, as CNN writer Eric Marrapodi seems to realize as well, the real story here is not Westboro.  The real story is the amazing love, patience, and hospitality shown by the members of Mars Hill Church.

After about a half-hour drive out from Seattle, I arrived at Mars Hill's Federal Way campus in Auburn a little after 8:20 and was greeted by half a dozen protesters already standing outside.  The campus is heavily wooded with a few athletic fields as well, and I saw families with children in baseball gear arriving between the police cars.  Yep, the cops were present at the affair just to make sure that there was no sort of incident, and Mars Hill had even supplied a hefty amount of its own security to ensure that the Westboro protesters were not hassled . . . at least, not in any sort of way that could provoke a lawsuit.

I parked my car and walked up to where the protesters were gathered.  They stood on one side of Mars Hill’s driveway with their picket signs singing their infamous song parodies.  “You think God loves your praying?  He hates all you do cause you love fornicating! . . . Can pray if you want, but you got no hope, only Hell where you will forever burn. . . .”  You get the idea.  On the opposite side of the driveway were a group of Mars Hill members and volunteer security personnel-- big guys equipped with headsets who were directing traffic and talking with passersby, urging them to keep a respectful distance from the Westboro crew.  One such volunteer was Steve, a heavier silver-haired man who normally attends at the Ballard campus but had come out to Auburn to lend a hand.  I asked Steve if there was anything specific about Mars Hill that Westboro found so objectionable, and he responded, “Well, I think their problem is that we teach the love of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who came to earth to die for our sins, and we believe that anyone who believes in him and trusts in that love is granted eternal life to enjoy the love of Christ at His side forever in the Kingdom of--”  “Okay, I get it.  You’re preaching to the choir, Steve.  No need to give the full explanation.”

The Westboro protesters were viciously singing their song still and brandishing their signs menacingly, and the Mars Hill onlookers were socializing, greeting one another, and laughing about the whole situation.  A braces-sporting high schooler and I shared a good laugh about the parody website Eastboro Baptist Church and its "God hates everyone except for us" slogan, and also I talked for a bit with a woman who had come out earlier to help set up the donuts and coffee for the protesters.  She explained, “Yeah, I offered a donut to that woman in pink over there, and she just looked down her nose and started laughing at me.  I think these people are nuts.”  Of course, then another Mars Hill member chimed in, “Honestly, I kind of wondered if Pastor Mark was being sarcastic, but I figured we’d come out here with a few dozen donuts anyway.  Of course, they’re not touching them, so it looks like more for us later.”  One of the Westboro signs seemed very much unlike the others; it read “God loves a humble heart,” and in their whole array of signs, it was the only one I saw that spoke of God loving anything.  One of the Mars Hill members pointed out the sign to me and said, “I agree with that sign, but I think that a humble heart would accept a free donut.”  Throughout the twenty-minute demonstration, not one donut was touched.

At one point, a man in his late twenties walked up from the parking lot, and he was a bit more vocal toward the protesters.  I could feel a few of the security volunteers tense up when he cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.  He had a shaved head and was wearing a hoodie with the word love written on it, and he yelled over to the protesters, “God doesn’t hate us!  God loves us, and He loves you, and we love you too!”  A protester yelled back at him, “YOU HAVE NO LOVE!  ONLY LUST!”  I went over to talk to the man and asked, “So, do you think you have lust?”  He gave a sigh and said in a facetious lament, “Apparently so.  I’m sure glad these fine Christians could show me the error of my ways.”  He was good natured about the whole exchange and seemed to think it was mostly just funny, regarding the Westboro protesters as a humorous annoyance and little more.  I continued to mingle with the Mars Hill folks, having a blast as I got to know the dozen or so people gathered on our side of the driveway.  It was practically a party at this point as we talked about church matters and cast the occasional bemused eye over to the protesters, whose hateful signs acquired a sort of impotence in the face of our little love fest.

“You a reporter?” I was asked by a tall, thin man in glasses and a heavy flannel jacket.  What is it with people thinking I’m a reporter lately?  I responded that I wasn’t.  He explained, “Rats.  I was really hoping the press would be here.  I actually ride with the Patriot Guard, and we normally only come to the soldier funerals, but I still wanted to go ahead and put forth a nice anti-Westboro presence since I live nearby.”  Whoa.  No way.  The Patriot Guard Riders are heroes two times over in my book.  The organization was founded when a group of Vietnam veteran (who also happened to be motorcycle enthusiasts) heard about how Westboro was protesting soldiers’ funerals.  Angered by the Phelps family’s disrespect toward fallen soldiers and their grieving families, this group tracked the Westboro protest schedule and formulated a response.  Whenever Westboro protests a soldier’s funeral, the Patriot Guard contact the soldier’s family ahead of time and ask for permission to form a barrier between the Westboro protesters and the mourners.  Using their motorcycles and large flags to form the barrier, the Patriot Guard also rev their engines proudly in a sort of 21-carburator salute that has the added benefit of drowning out the Westboro protesters’ shouting.  Within six months of their first counter-protest, the Patriot Guard Riders had a chapter in every state, meaning that Westboro pretty much can’t go anywhere without these guys showing up.  Again, these guys are heroes in my book.

The Rider with whom I spoke was very much resisting the urge to go over and talk to the protesters, and Steve told us politely, “Please don’t.  Look, all three of us know that you two aren’t affiliated with Mars Hill, but they don’t know that, and passersby don’t know that, and given that we’ve already gotten some media attention over the donut thing, we really don’t want to send the wrong message.  We’re trying to respect their right to free assembly and say that God loves them while also keeping a safe enough distance to show that we don’t condone their message.  Besides, what could you possibly say to them that would be more persuasive than a donut?”  We agreed to this, and Steve gave us permission to walk around and snap a few pictures.  The Rider wanted to put his arm around Shirley Phelps-Roper and have me take a picture, but that seemed pretty disrespectful to me, so I declined to be a part of it.  On hearing the Rider say this, Steve cautioned, “Watch how close you get.  They’re really good lawyers.”  I thought for a second and said, “You know, I had never realized this before, but these protesters probably aren’t helping the legal community’s public image either.”  This got some laughs for the Mars Hill members.  Of course, it was about then that we noticed something happening across the driveway.

Counter-Protesters

A small handful of casually-attired bystanders had infiltrated the Westboro protesters and were holding up signs of their own that said things like “God hates signs.”  Of course, there were a few pretty wild ones in the mix.  A middle aged man in a hoodie and baseball cap held up a sign that proudly proclaimed, “I’m here for the gang bang!”  Two unaccompanied middle school girls also walked by sheepishly with signs under their arms, not sure if it was safe for them to go stand by the Westboro protesters.  I got a look at the signs as they walked skittishly by on the opposite side of the street.  Their message was simple and poignant: “Jesus loves you.”  I wish they would have stopped to hold up those signs.  After all, that’s the message that the Westboro folks really need to hear (especially the poor kid stuck holding up the “Fags doom nations” sign).  Inspired, I started holding up my “Love Wins” notebook, but the protesters didn’t acknowledge me except to sing a little more loudly in my direction.  The Patriot Guard Rider was good enough to snap a picture of me with the woman in pink shaking a finger and yelling over my shoulder.  After a few minutes of this, we all just sort of went back to talking happily, but then we noticed another unexpected bit of movement across the driveway.

Even though they were scheduled to protest for ten more minutes, the Westboro protesters beat a hasty retreat a little before 8:40.  My guess is that they figured out that they couldn’t provoke an incident from Mars Hill, and that means no profits from lawsuits, so they took off to go incite violence somewhere else.

As the Mars Hill security volunteers loaded up the donuts and the copies of Pastor Mark’s book on theology, I asked, “Hey man, can I snag one of those books?”  A volunteer told me, “They’re Pastor Mark’s personal copies, so you’d have to ask him.  He might give you one.”  Seeing as Pastor Mark would not be at any church I attended that day due to his taking a day with his family, this seemed unlikely.  Another Mars Hill member swooped in and grabbed one of the rejected donuts, and I asked, “How is taking a book any different from taking a donut?  They were both left out for the Westboro protesters and rejected.”  The security volunteer thought about it for a second and replied, “Find me a $15 donut, and then you can debate that one.”  As disappointed as I was by not getting the free book I had hoped for, I still had to admire that Mars Hill sense of humor.

The Immaculate Donut Table

As I headed out, I shook Steve’s hand and thanked him for Mars Hill’s hospitality, both to me and to Westboro.  He said it was no problem, and he mentioned that, since the Westboro group had left so abruptly, it meant that he would have time to make it to the Ballard campus for the 11:15 worship service, so he would see me there.  Steve said that he would even come sit with me if we bumped into one another again.  Sadly, this never occurred, but it was good getting to know him in that short time.  I know I’ve already expressed a little ambivalence about their pastor and his rhetoric, but the people at the Mars Hill Federal Way campus were just downright awesome.  They were called on to display an act of radical hospitality to a hate-spewing protest machine, and they answered that call lovingly, even if accompanied by the occasional tongue-in-cheek remark.

Again, Westboro’s bilious hatred is nothing new.  It’s something we’ve all known about for years now.  What is really remarkable is the love that Mars Hill sought to show them, even though that love was rebuffed and scorned and kicked to the curb like an uneaten donut.  Still, my hope is that Mars Hill will start a trend with this and that other churches will take their lead in the future.  Westboro’s not going to stop their protests any time soon, so we need to be ready to respond with love.

I witnessed a beautiful act of love this morning at Mars Hill, and though my opinion of the misguided Westboro Baptist Church has not improved in the slightest, I now find myself filled with an extra nugget of hope for the Church Universal.  As the Body of Christ on earth, the Church should be capable of unbelievable, radical love, and Mars Hill lived that out this morning.

Let’s take their baton and run with it.

Peace and Blessings,

Tom

PS-- I couldn't resist a little bit of amateur photoshopping, and I'm sort of thinking about sending this to the other Mars Hill back in Michigan.  I doubt they could use it for anything really, but it might be something fun for Rob's files.  It might also be my favorite facebook profile picture ever.  But hey, after two services and a protest, I'm pretty wiped out.  I'll get to the Mars Hill writeup tomorrow, but right now, it's bedtime for this unpaid independent researcher.