Curse of the Middle Child

I’m the human on the far left. Not technically in the middle of this photo

For the first nine years of my life I sat between two brothers who were about a year or two on either side of me. Shortly after turning nine, my little sister joined us, and later, other step siblings. But for those first nine formative years I was the classic middle child negotiating the differences between an older and a younger brother. I loved them both, but interacted with them differently and tried to stand on both sides, almost as if two different persons.

I’ve come to believe that those first nine years of life shaped the core of my being. For those of you who are familiar with the Enneagram I wonder if this season contributed to my becoming a “9” – the Peacemaker. Today, I often find myself loving various warring siblings from a painful middle space. In the last twenty-five years of American Christianity, warring factions have taken the form of progressive versus conservative, but divisiveness in our faith has always been more complicated than two straw men.

Those last sentences sound self-righteous as I re-read them; like, “I wish you all could grow out of your polarizing myopia and just become like me, seeing the benefits and liabilities of your respective, flawed positions.” While I’m certain I struggle with arrogance, I don’t think this is where it occurs. I’m not so sure the middle position is always the best place to be. Sometimes we need to come down on one side or another. But I do believe that the empathy of a middle child is a gift.

When will we realize that there is a gravitational pull to our holy convictions? That the good perspective we have arrived at can spiral into a toxic hatred of those who don’t agree? Can we all just take a finger off the trigger for a moment. Sure, what she said was provocative and one-sided. Sure, he lacks self-awareness. But let us holster our words for a few days before responding.

I try to arrive at a place where my irritation with a person’s opposing perspective is mitigated by my desire for their maturity. Even if it is only 49% irritation and 51% hunger for their becoming more like Jesus. At least I know I’m getting close.

I own that I am a progressive Christian by today’s penchant for labeling. But I also recognize the danger of a new Pharisaism of progressive Christianity. A sense of “I stand for justice therefore all others are against what is true and right and fair and good. Here’s a re-write of Luke 18 that helps to keep my Pharisaical tendencies in check.

How about we all step into the role of a middle child for a moment before we strike out against our older/younger sibling? While we will need to eventually come down on the many issues that plague us, we could all do with a little bit of the curse of being a middle child.