Recently I spoke on a weekend retreat for the Washington Community Fellowship. The leaders who invited me asked that I focus on building relationships across racial, generational, and gender barriers, both within the church and in outreach ministry. Which I did, more or less.

Among all the different groups I have spoken to over the years, I can’t think of one who listened more closely, processed more intensely, or engaged me more directly than the folks on that retreat. Everywhere I went, there was a cluster of people waiting for me with thoughtful questions, touching personal reflections, or challenging alternatives to my ideas. I was worn out by Sunday afternoon, but it was a wonderful time. I learned a lot.

One thing I learned was that my prescriptions for overcoming racial barriers assume a level of racial clarity that leaves out lots of precious people, some of whom face cross-cultural relationship issues that are incredibly complex. In some very important ways, mixed-race children, isolated immigrants from unusual places, and those who were raised apart from others like them, and interracial adoptees have a great deal in common with one another, particularly in relation to more mainstream majorities and minorities. In other ways, however, each of these folks has a unique set of challenges, some of which defy generalization. I must bear this in mind from now on.

I must also bear in mind that, especially in church contexts, marital status can create disproportionalities of power that are very real and very difficult to navigate. A number of single people told me that they often felt marginalized or diminished by the subtle and overt messages they received from their married counterparts in general and from church leaders in particular.

I was not surprised that my focus on relational intentionality, Christian community and outreach ministry generated so much discussion, given the peculiar history and make-up of WCF, or that that discussion inspired so much genuine interest on the part of individuals eager to pursue a more counter-cultural form of discipleship.

What I was surprised by, however, was the deep discomfort and anger I inspired by suggesting that those committed to building authentic relationships across race, age, and gender barriers should not expect or insist on intimacy with those on the other sides of those barriers. If I had, I would have been gentler and more careful in explaining that idea.

Over the years, I have often met well-meaning people who felt deep (and I would say needless) guilt about their natural affinity for those with whom they had the most in common. After a time, rather than causing them to try harder to relate to different people, their desire to relieve this guilt caused them to give up on those relationships altogether.

By deliberately lowering expectations, I did not mean to invalidate anyone’s close cross-barrier relationships, but only to observe that there are some very real limits of understanding between people who are essentially different in some significant way. To me, this is self evident.

This is not to say that there cannot be very close, very authentic friendships between people who are quite different in terms of race, gender, age, economic means, education, intelligence, religious conviction, sexual orientation, physical beauty, personal security, and/or political power. Indeed, the goal of my messages to WCF was to encourage and enable people to actively pursue those friendships in appropriate ways.

In the absence of sexual union, however, I would maintain that the kind of mutual understanding and informed acceptance necessary in our most intimate relationships generally requires shared experience in those areas most central to our identities. There are miraculous exceptions, of course, but they are noteworthy precisely because they are so rare. More often, intimacy requires significant commonality.

The real problem with my presentation, I think, is that I inadvertently inferred (and others unconsciously agreed) that such intimacy is the highest value in human relationships, so that any relationship without it must be somehow second rate. Clearly, this is not the case. On the contrary, many of our closest and most important relationships are most successfully carried out without such intimacy, and in some cases are ruined when it is introduced.

When we consider our most beloved parents, teachers, coaches, working partners, social justice collaborators, and mentors, along with those with whom we have those roles, it becomes clear that such vital relationships can reach their full potential without the kind of intimacy reserved for those whose experiences and opportunities are similar enough to our own to allow for intimacy.

Beyond the sinful barriers that stand between us, all relationships have legitimate limitations of some kind. Recognizing and acknowledging that fact is not an excuse to give up on everyone except those most like us, but rather a false guilt reliever that enables us to reach out to those who are different with honest hope. Each of us needs a vast array of authentic, loving relationships in order to reach our full potential as children of God, and also in order to effectively work so that all of our brothers and sisters may one day do the same. Let’s get to building them, in the name of Jesus.