Hugging our Cactus: Quitting the Drug of Canceling Others

We snort lines of “righteous anger.”
We inject indignation and disapproval into our veins.

“How could they ever do something like that? What were they thinking?” we puff as clouds of fiery anger. Like incense it rises to the true American Idol: Our Cancel Culture.

You might think that I’m being a bit extreme or dramatic, but let’s really take a long honest look at ourselves, with clear eyes and sober hearts. In the 90’s and early 2000’s magazines like “Us,” “The Globe,” and “The Examiner” were there to tempt us in grocery store checkout lines. Now, TMZ and reality shows can stoke our outrage without ever leaving our homes.  

That’s what my friend, Tullian Tchividijian, Billy Graham’s grandson said about experiencing the backlash of the very public scandal surrounding his affair and so-called “fall from grace.” At a recent men’s retreat Tullian continued, “I was toxic and radioactive. I was a leper and a liability. No one wanted to get close to me, lest I damage their brand or give them guilt by association.” At some level, we shouldn’t be shocked at the scandal and how it ran its course (it fizzled rather quickly in the machine of our 24-hour news cycles). But, the damage was done. Tullian had to face the very real question: what do I do now that everyone’s abandoned me and now that everyone assumes that I have indeed fallen farther than God’s grace can reach—it’s what we really mean when we talk about a public figures, “fall from grace.”

But where in scriptures do we see God give up on someone who is scandalized? King David had such an illicit affair and coverup that even the writers of “House of Cards” would blush. Peter denied Jesus three times but gives the first sermon of the early church on Pentecost a few weeks later. Paul was responsible for the first martyrdom, holding people’s stuff so they could throw literal stones at Stephen with more accuracy and velocity. Here’s the truth, what we need to fully embrace, but it will feel like hugging a cactus:

Speaking of stoning—remember where we get the phrase, “don’t cast the first stone.” Don’t forget where it came from!

¹⁰ Then Jesus stood up again and said to the woman, “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”

¹¹ “No, Lord,” she said.

And Jesus said, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”
–John 8:10-11

Jesus was surrounded by a crowd of people not just ready to cancel this woman for her public sin, but literally kill her. Jesus doesn’t get sucked in, He doesn’t react. He responds, slowly. He doodles in the sand. Her accusers are annoyed that Jesus doesn’t join in their revelry of anger and condemnation. His simple statement, “He who is without sin cast the first stone,” causes the older Jewish leaders to leave first—they’d lived long enough to know that putting on a pretentious show of perfection wouldn’t work. The younger ones, they hold their stones for a while—they hadn’t “hugged their cactus” much yet; they were still living in denial, still wearing a mask.

I imagine it was this same sentiment that led Robert Downey Jr. to conclude his “hug your cactus” speech about un-cancelling Mel Gibson with the following words.

I humbly ask that you join me — unless you are completely without sin, in which case you picked the wrong [F-ing] industry — in forgiving my friend his trespasses, offering him the same clean slate you have me, and allowing him to continue his great and ongoing contribution to our collective art without shame. He’s hugged the cactus long enough!

There are three things worth unpacking here.

First, Downey reminds us that Hollywood is about the last place to be able to claim a sinless moral resumé. Second, Downey reminds us that we usually pick and choose who we cancel and who we forgive; the distinctions are usually arbitrary and hypocritical. Third, is that so many public figures are forced to endure a lifetime of stigma. Should leaders who morally disappoint us experience serious and short-term consequences for the foolishness? Absolutely. Should this ostracization go on indefinitely? Absolutely not.

So, the following is a recent update of a poem I wrote after meditating on John 8 for a sermon way back in 2013 (I tried to update the meter and rhythm of it…I’m still learning that part of poetry). I pray you can see yourself not only as the person who “got caught,” but also as the person who hears the most important word in the English language, “Forgiven.”

I stand on the seaside,
Pointed fingers,
Poking holes in my pride,
One man lingers,
Apart from the others,
Ready with stones.

Verdict’s in with a shout,
I’m guilty, shamed,
Inside and out.
The cruel sentence is death,
Looking down at the sand,
Enjoying one last breath.

To my surprise,
One man is stooped writing,
Scribbles in the sand,
Not cold stones for smiting,
One word, one thought,
I look to him for hope,
He’s all I got.
Accusers abandon,
Their anger, pretention,
Only He wants to stay,
Peace for the noisy fray.

I catch a glimpse, a word,
A gift I could n’er afford,
A word alone won my freedom,
By a word alone, an everlasting kingdom,
Jesus smiled at the gift he’d given,
The word written in the sand,
“Forgiven.”