Dear Dr. Dobson,
In the wake of your passing, I felt like I needed to acknowledge the immense contribution you’ve made to my ministry and work, as you were integral to my journey.
In some ways, you’re the reason I do what I do.
Thirteen years ago, I was a megachurch pastor, working with hundreds of young people in one of the largest Methodist churches in the country. I’d recently started writing a blog called Stuff That Needs to Be Said, with an audience comprised largely of parents of students in our church, other members of the community, and youth workers interested in increasing the size and reach of their ministries.
The more I shared my writing, the more tension I began to experience between the person I was called to be as I leaned into the teachings of Jesus—and the pastor I was expected to be.
Realizing the political nature of being a pastor, knowing that my Senior Pastor was reading what I was writing, and continually being reminded that I represented our church, I learned to be careful with my words, as so many people in ministry do.
I knew that in matters of sexuality, race, and gender, there were lines I couldn’t cross. I learned to wordsmith to say what I wanted to say without saying it. I softened things, edited myself, spoke around topics in order not to offend. I concealed my convictions in the name of self-preservation.
Then came Sandy Hook.
In the aftermath of the shooting, as I, like so many others, tried to process the incomprehensible horror for those beautiful children and the immeasurable suffering of their families, their classmates, teachers, and the entire Newtown community, I watched you step before the nation and say that this act of unthinkable barbarism happened because we had “taken God out of our public schools.”
I did the only thing I knew to do. I wrote.
Sitting at the computer, I put down the words that were in my heart, unfiltered and unflinching, not caring who I’d be offending, what the ramifications on my job might be, or what kind of pushback might come. For the first time, I wasn’t writing; I was bleeding.
I published those words, and they reached tens of thousands of people, numbers that at that time were unthinkable for my small platform. With them came an outpouring of affirmation from similarly outraged, grieving human beings, many of whom had expressed the hurt you’d already caused them in past, through the toxic theology you’d created a media empire propagating through your Focus on the Family broadcast. People shared with me the way my words gave voice to their sorrows and suffering, and that they made them feel seen and heard.
And there were, of course, thousands of your supporters, self-identified followers of Jesus who displayed a callousness and cruelty that were both disturbing and revelatory. I began to understand just how harmful you and those like you were, and I knew that I needed to oppose you.
That week, I decided that as someone in leadership in the Church, my only true gift was my authenticity; the unedited contents of my heart, and that I need to speak them, push back, criticism, or firing be damned.
Since that time, I’ve been fortunate enough to have published seven books and reached hundreds of millions of people all around the world. The only reason that fact gives me great pride is that I know the human beings on the other side of those writings and social media posts.
I know that millions of people who were taught by you that they were hated by God based on their gender identity or sexual orientation, or inferior because of their gender; those who were bullied and beaten and shamed—heard a dissenting voice, a voice that declared them beautiful, loved, and made in the image of God.
Sadly, there are far too many men like you with far greater power than they deserve here. And in this Renaissance of religion-fueled hatred, they are battering innocent human beings with a theology that traffics in fear, condemnation, and shame, and not the expansive, compassionate heart of Jesus. They are going to continue your legacy, and I’m going to be here to confront them.
Since that day thirteen years ago, I have tried to undo the damage you and men like you have done; to confront the systemic injustices perpetuated by the Evangelical Church, to condemn the unholy marriage of religion and politics, and to demand that professed followers of Jesus actually love the least of these, who sadly have been those you have so consistently harmed for so long.
All that to say, I owe a debt to you. Your twisted theology, your sickening lack of empathy, and your willingness to leverage a tragedy for your own gain were the catalysts for me using my voice to speak God’s love more loudly than your hatred.
And for that, I have to thank you.
The Beautiful Mess by John Pavlovitz is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
