Jesus, Tony, and Me

A few days ago (I’m writing this in November), I got a call from Tony Campolo.

We talk often, so his phone call wasn’t a surprise. We talk about politics some, but mostly we talk about Jesus. This time, when Tony called, it was different. As you may know, Tony had a major stroke in 2020. Everybody was sure that Tony would die then, but slowly, he began to progress in his recovery, so much so that we were even talking about his coming back as a guest on Steve Brown, Etcetera.

This phone call from Tony was different. While we talked and laughed some, it was a bit sad and dark. I figured Tony would bounce back as he had in the past. But Tony died two or three days later. Looking back on that call, I think Tony saw it as a goodbye.

I wish I had known. There are some things I wish I had said, but I realized that we’ll continue our conversation in a better place. It isn’t over. Paul said, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14).

Tony was a sociologist, pastor, and political activist. A long while back, Tony and I did a syndicated television show for a year, Hashing it Out. The show was filmed in New York, and the set was a New York diner where Tony and I sat at a table, drank coffee, and discussed politics and social issues. Tony was my “liberal left-wing socialist friend,” and I was his “conservative right-wing reactionary friend.” We disagreed about almost everything but Jesus. We both loved Jesus, making us brothers and friends, not adversaries.

While neither of us had the time to do that television show, we wanted people to see how two Christians who disagreed about most things could still love each other. And that was the reaction from people around the country: “You guys really do love each other.” We were glad because Jesus said that the world would know we were Christians by our love for one another (John 13:35). 

I just read what I wrote above and tried to write more. I got stuck. If this letter were just about Tony, it would be easy to write. I have so many stories about and memories with Tony. If this letter were just about Jesus, it would be easy to write, too. After all, that’s what I do for a living. I have a lot more stories and memories about Jesus than Tony, but it’s not easy when I put them together. Then I thought, Why is that a problem? Tony was about Jesus, and Jesus was about Tony and all those Jesus loved. 

That works.

Many (maybe even most) of the people who produced our show were not believers. During the commercial breaks, I would sit at the table and drink coffee . . . while Tony got out his New Testament and witnessed to producers, camera people, and directors. I would sometimes think, If I’m right and he’s wrong, why am I sitting here drinking coffee while Tony is over there witnessing? But I was about Jesus, too. I’m not a fan of New York. (If I owned hell and New York, I would live in hell and rent out New York!) Every time I took a plane to New York and a cab to the studio, I would pray, “Jesus, I wouldn’t do this for anybody but you.”

The friendship Tony and I had puzzled a whole lot of people and made some angry. I once told Tony that my friendship with him meant that I not only had my enemies but, with our friendship, I got his, too. Tony said he experienced the same thing and didn’t think it was fair either. Our relationship was sometimes even puzzling to us. Tony was a passionate political liberal, social activist, and a kind of chaplain to Bill and Hillary Clinton. There were times when I would blush at things he said. Tony blushed, too, when he discovered who I voted for and supported. Regarding the economy, I was sure that Tony’s views would not help the poor and would only keep them in poverty. And you should have heard our discussions on things like guns and LGBTQ issues. You get the idea.

This Thanksgiving (and it will be the same at Christmas, yet to come for me) was rife with tweets on social media and interviews with people who refused to go home for Thanksgiving because their families voted for Trump or Harris. We are probably more divided as a nation than we have ever been. I can deal with that when it’s secular because they don’t know any better. It should be different for Christians, but so often, I hear from pastors who tell me about the political and social divisions in their churches.

People often ask how Tony and I could be such good friends when we’re so different. There are lots of reasons. This is worth talking about, given Jesus’ high priestly prayer in John 17 that we “may all be one” just as he and his Father were. 

In our friendship, two things were always true.

First, while Tony and I often taught things that convicted others, we never did it as outsiders.  We both affirmed Luther’s comment that Christians are great sinners with a great Savior. Mercy and grace were central to what both of us taught and believed. When Jim Bakker fell and was thrown in prison, his sin was publicly revealed, and Tony preached a sermon, “I Am Jim Bakker.” Tony said that when Jim Bakker and his television network were popular, we all couldn’t wait to affirm him . . . but when Jim Bakker needed his brothers and sisters the most, we all avoided him. Good point, that.

When Christians look at other Christians as evil, there is division. But when we all see ourselves as sinners badly in need of grace, it’s surprising what happens. Love happens. One of the reasons God used Paul, and Christians followed him, was because Paul knew he was the “chief of sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15). Paul wrote, “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19).

Tony and I knew we were sinners. That’s why we loved each other and could talk. We both knew that Jesus loved us and that we didn’t deserve it. You’ve heard the old saying, “There is so much good in the worst of us and so much bad in the best of us that it ill behooves any of us to criticize the rest of us.” There is some truth in that, but it’s even worse. In fact, whoever said that was an optimist on steroids. “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). So, we can all be wrong, sinful, and obtuse, and we often are.

One other thing about Tony and me. We knew Jesus trumped everything else—political views, social philosophies, and relational proclivities. Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Tony and I knew that Jesus didn’t say he was “a” way, but “the” way. One of the things that Tony and I often said to each other and others was that we both wanted the same thing—what Jesus wanted—but we just disagreed on how to achieve that. When we start with Jesus, it’s amazing how the conversation turns positive and love happens.

When Chuck Colson was convicted and sent to prison, the first thing he did was to register as a Democrat because “I just didn’t want a Republican to go to prison.” There isn’t much good about death in general and Tony’s death in particular, except that he finally discovered the truth and became a conservative. Alternatively, God forbid, Tony may have discovered that Jesus is a liberal. Actually, that won’t happen because, in the long view of eternity, nobody will get points for being a conservative or a liberal, just being redeemed.

Tony and I were scheduled for a debate in Orlando at the Adventist church across the street from the large Adventist hospital a few years ago. It had been scheduled for over a year. A month or two before the debate took place, Tony came out and affirmed gay marriage, a position he had opposed for most of his years of ministry. I’m not sure why Tony changed his mind, but he did. It probably had to do with love, thinking that marriage was better than screwing around and going to gay bars, but I don’t know. When Tony changed his mind, orthodox and conservative Christians all over the country went ballistic. They weren’t the only ones critical of Tony. So many of Tony’s close friends, who had walked with Tony for years, turned away from him and made it clear that they could no longer be his friends.

I got a call from Tony, and he said, “Steve, you know I love you, but if you don’t want to do this debate, I’ll understand.”

“Are you a fruitcake?” I said. “You’re my friend. Of course, I want to do the debate. This whole gay marriage thing is just another one of your harebrained ideas, and I’ve been dealing with your harebrained ideas for years. I love you, Tony. Why wouldn’t I want to debate?”

Tony got quite emotional and passed the phone to his wife. When I asked Peggy how they were doing, she said, “It’s been hard, but we’re okay as long as we have some friends like you.”

Listen, if you have harebrained ideas, sin, or seem to have left the faith but are a believer, I’ll say the same thing about you. And given my proclivity to have harebrained ideas, sin, and sometimes sound like I’m running away, I fully expect you to still be my friend and to love me. Jesus would expect no less.

He asked me to remind you.