There are precious few times in our lives when truth so clearly congeals before our eyes. We should not just accept them. We should celebrate them. Even if they come via fortune cookies. I recently had lunch with my wife at one of our favorite Chinese and sushi places in Radford (of course, it's really the only sushi place in our small town, but Nagoya is delicious nonetheless). Within my fortune cookie, I discovered a profound little statement: "Faith is personal, but never private." While this profound quip might sound like it arose from Confucius’s own lips, there’s no discernible record I can find that attributes this saying to him or other Eastern wisdom teachers. However, as I mined online and honest to goodness paper libraries for the quote’s origins, the closest thing to a progenitor that I found was a Jim Wallis quote: “faith is always personal but never private.” Maybe Wallis found the same fortune after his meal one day and added the "always," or maybe some fortune cookie conglomerate heard Wallis's quote and modified it to avoid legal action. Regardless of the origin, I had something of a spiritual moment as we returned to the car after our lunch-hour date. In a country that elevates the individual and seems to celebrate the privatization of most everything, the notion of private faith has become practically sacrosanct. Many people refer to their own religions or religious paths. Though you might assume this comes mostly from individuals who claim a "spiritual but not religious" identity, or even of those openly agnostic about faith, I've found this disposition at least as frequently in people who claim members in the world's five most influential religions - Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, or Islam - as well as those who practice lesser known traditions. Many seem to consider faith an entirely private matter. Followers of Jesus must wrestle with the incredibly public nature of Jesus's ministry and Jesus's invitation to a faith lived publicly. Of course we find Jesus calling us to private expressions of faith in Matthew 6: “Be careful that you don’t practice your religion in front of people to draw their attention. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven...But when you pray, go to your room, shut the door, and pray to your Father who is present in that secret place. Your Father who sees what you do in secret will reward you." Certainly, portions of our piety ought to remain private. Yet Jesus also lives a life of public ministry. He performs miraculous healings in public (John 9), teaches publicly about faith (Matthew 5-7), publicly challenges theological misinterpretation and misapplication by religious authorities (Mark 7), and even commissions his disciples to work on his behalf in public (Luke 10; Matthew 28). The Holy Spirit's even more problematic. On Pentecost, Holy Spirit falls on the disciples and gives them the ability to publicly share the good news of Jesus across the boundaries of language (Acts 2). In that same chapter, the church forms as a public community that shares meals, shares teaching, shares worship, even shares responsibility for all who have need. We can't isolate truly Jesus to certain parts of our lives. So yes, our faith should inform how we vote. This doesn't mean we should always vote for a particular party, but that God's presence in our lives ought to inform how we think and act on every issue. Indeed, our faith should inform how we shop. Who made our clothes, our computers, our toys, and our food matters, as does how they're treated and compensated by their employers. Surely, our faith should inform how we relate to people in the world. To paraphrase Paul, if we don't live the love of God, we're useless (1 Corinthians 13). No one can experience the fruit of the Spirit if we keep our faith private. This doesn't mean we ought to become the kind of public Christian who preaches hate on college campuses or hands out Bible tracts on street corners. But it does mean we should go beyond the oft cited, "Preach the Gospel, use words if you must" mentality (and by the by, St. Francis never said that). The problem with this isn't that it's bad advice. It's that people who tend to quote this almost never use words to speak the name of Jesus or invite people into God's good news. A public faith that's truly personal to us will be most certainly lived out, but it will also appear in our conversations, in our invitations, in our work, in every pore of our existence. As a follower of Jesus, take your faith personally. Just don't forget that it's got a public purpose. After all, God's at work reconciling all things through Jesus.
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Anxiety can kill a community. Urgency can lead to exponential growth. What's the difference between the two? Imagine yourself in traffic. Anxiety's born of fear. Anxiety sometimes leads people to make rash decisions, like cutting off other drivers because they're late for a dinner date. Anxiety can also become insular. Sometimes people avoid decisions because they're afraid to make the situation worse. Of course, that in itself is making a decision, and if your car is headed toward debris from an accident, a lack of intervention won't change the direction you're headed. Anxiety can even lead to distraction. If you're worried about the last fight you had with a friend and your mind is anxiously elsewhere, you may not see the brake lights in front of you. Urgency, however, is purposeful and focused. In traffic, urgency recognizes that the dangers of speed may prove detrimental to making that date on time because of the possible accident or ticket in the work zone. Urgency understands that self-centeredness, while understandable, is always unwise when surrounded by other autos driven by drivers with other goals. Being aware of them, and even communicating with them through lights and signals, leads to a better outcome for everyone on the road. Urgency also understands that, while you might rather be someplace else or are worried about someone not in the car, to take focus away from the road puts you at further risk for separation from that ultimate goal. Both anxiety and urgency are responses to stress. Remember that stress, in itself, isn't a bad thing. Appropriate amounts of stress on your muscles help them grow. Certain amounts of stress on your mind help you learn. Yet, how we respond to stress often colors the way that we view stress. If we deal anxiously with the stress we experience, stress seems an enemy. If we respond to stress with urgency, however, stress becomes a catalyst for development. What's vital, though, is actually responding to the stress. Complacency leads us to avoid stress altogether. When we pay no attention to the things that might stress us, we still suffer the consequences of their presence. We simply live in ignorance of those results until it's too late for our urgency to change the situation. If you see a truck swerve to avoid a deer and don't alter your course because you just believe everything will be alright, you'll still have an accident. Complacency is just as deadly as anxiety, but differently dangerous, because it feels safer for a while. As you and your community face stresses, look for the opportunities for urgency. How can you best utilize your resources to positively affect the situation? Where do you see God working through the stress to bring wisdom and strength? Acknowledge the temptations of complacency and anxiety, and ask God to instead carry you to holy urgency. There may you find the surprising, transforming presence of God. Like the picture above, holy urgency from everyone can even make traffic beautiful. It's that time of year again. The time when graduates and transfers depart campus for good, while others depart just for the summer. The time when campus ministers give thanks for the way God showed up in the passed year and look forward to what new beginnings God's got in store for the year to come. I was blessed that God called me to work with two groups this year. The picture to the left shows Highlander Lutherans with some of our friends from UKirk (PC-USA) and Canterbury (Episcopalian) ministries on Radford University's campus. The blessing of this ministry is that we just began meeting in 2014, and now serve fifteen undergraduate and graduate students at RU. We've found a monthly rhythm of worship, Bible study, service, and fellowship, each beginning with a meal cooked by local congregations, which helps us to live our discipleship. These different experiences stretch us outside of our comfort zones, and as God's promised, we still find the Holy Spirit already at work far beyond our expectations. This Spring, we began meeting with UKirk on a weekly basis to provide a larger critical mass for our life together, with responsibilities for food, programming, and funding spread between the two ministries. Detailing growth is about much more than numbers. It's about seeing a willingness to take risks that bless our campus community. For instance, we received an Action Team grant from Thrivent Financial to produce "Finals Survival Kits" that included snacks, a prayer to guide their study, and information on how to get involved with Highlander Lutherans. We produced 80 of them in hopes that students would share with their friends. Three of our students, however, took this challenge to the next level. While Lutherans aren't known for their evangelism, Marta, Kyle, and Katie took three boxes into high traffic areas of campus and shared them with students walking to and from their latest exams. They reported back to me that the joyful surprise on students faces when they received the kits was enough to make them want to do more to tangibly bless RU. What a blessing to be in ministry with these people! They've grown from individuals who happened to be Lutheran to an ecumenical expression of Christ's Body wanting to share God's love with more and more of our campus. This second picture shows The Well, the Lutheran Campus Ministry at Virginia Tech. I served as their interim Campus Pastor while Luther Memorial Lutheran Church, their parent organization, reorganized their staff structure. They're an incredible group of young women and men that showed a willingness to welcome a new leader mid-year and continue on their spiritual journeys. There's an invigorating pool of leadership within this group. Students becoming nurses and engineers, leaving to work alongside Jesus in areas as different as the ELCA's Young Adults in Global Mission and for AMD. Students following Jesus to work as leaders in the local Lutheran camps like Caroline Furnace and as leaders in VT's student political organizations. They express their love for Jesus as artists, as educators, and as friends. Perhaps the most exciting part of their growth together was seen in their sharing of milestones, our weekly time of sharing something that we faced, whether a challenge to overcome or a joy to share. The willingness to bear one another's burdens in this way showed a growing maturity for which I'm grateful. This shows more than just a compassionate group of students; it reveals the kind of leaders we'll have for our church and world in the coming years. Thank God for that! What I wish people could comprehend about campus ministry is just that: the vast opportunity we have for discipleship and leadership in ways that benefit the church in present and future forms. When we relegate to another form of youth group or consider it an expendable outreach ministry, we separate ourselves from God's active work in the lives of students, faculty, and staff on our campuses. More fundamentally, we lop off a fundamental portion of Christ's body. This is a desperate mistake, especially in an age where the dominant ministry voices on campus are evangelical and Roman Catholic. I don't mean these ministries shouldn't exist; far from it! Rather, we as ELCA Lutherans provide a via media that incorporates the Reformation tradition with a theological commitment to social justice and an ever-present trust that God's Spirit is moving in ways of justice and inclusion far beyond even our most creative imaginations. We're able to let students know that, even if they feel unsafe in those traditions, there's a Christian tent big enough even for those with questions and doubts. I was fortunate enough to walk alongside two groups of students that lived this, and I'd love for you to see the ways our campus ministries across the ELCA provide avenues for young leaders to grow in God's image. Get in touch with your local campus ministry to learn more by visiting lumin-network.com. If your local campus doesn't have a ministry and you're interested in starting one, reach out to me! I'd love to get you in touch with nearby ministers who have the skill and experience to develop new ministries on campus. I've come to believe that growing old(er) is a blessing. For those that know me well, this may come as a surprise. Though I'm frequently told I look younger than my age, I don't take the aging process gracefully. When I turned thirty, I had something like a 1/3-life crisis, at least until I realized my brother would be 40 nearly ten years before I would, which gave me enough perspective to sigh in relief and enough bragging rights to tease him the next time we spoke on the phone. Still, I felt old, and hated the feeling of growing older. Until someone I loved, only a few years older than myself, was diagnosed with colon cancer that's moved to the liver. That changed everything. There's not much you can say to a ridiculously healthy thirty something who's more fit than most of the planet, whose diet is better regulated than most Americans, who has rambunctious children, a wonderful spouse, and the last thing anyone like that wants to hear is how growing old is so difficult, about how another birthday isn't something to celebrate. Of course, we're all hopeful that the treatments will prove healing, that remission will come, that we'll kick cancer to the curb. This person is young enough and healthy enough that their body's better suited to handle the chemo than most of us, Yet, this has brought a lot of perspective into my life, and that of my family. Growing old(er) is a blessing that we want to afford all people, and especially this person. There's plenty of biblical warrant that speaks to the blessings of age. Job 12 tells us that wisdom belongs to the aged, but I'm less concerned about wisdom in itself. I'm focused more on an abundance of life well lived. That appears in Proverbs 20, where we hear that "Strength is the glory of young people, while the gray hair of experience is the splendor of old age." Lines like "the splendor of old age" sounded ridiculous to my teenage self, whose paternal grandfather had died of Alzheimer's. The line still sounded stupid when medical complications took my maternal grandmother's life. Aging didn't look splendid. It looked difficult. I'll even admit that my time in Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), the hospital chaplaincy internship required by the ELCA for ordination, was most difficult when I faced the slow struggles of seniors losing their abilities. This all seemed patently unfair. Yet, something I've seen in my ministry too often but didn't fully comprehend until this recent diagnosis, is that growing old is a luxury deprived of too many and afforded to too few. High school classmates succumbed to addiction only a few years after graduation. Suicide touched too many of the campuses I attended or worked on. Even while in CPE I witnessed firsthand the ways that cancer, cystic fibrosis, and other diseases that took the lives of children, teenagers, and young adults. Those who live beyond such difficulties experience a life not available to all people. That's an invaluable splendor. So now, I pray for old age, especially for those closest to me, who have so much life yet to live. I pray for all young people, that they might experience the splendor of a silver shadow on their temples. That we might all experience a time when we're not as strong as we once were, but the strength of others supports us in life, and so we still rejoice. That no parent would ever have to bury a child, and that when we bury our parents we'd do so in view of a long life well lived. More than that, though, I pray for all those through whom God is working toward health and wellness. This includes neuroscientists and yogis, oncologists and dietitians, psychiatrists and counselors, artists and personal trainers, pastors and researchers, truly anyone through whom God is not merely extending life, but making life more abundant. Life itself can be abundant, no matter how many years we spend on this plane of existence. I'm thankful for those that make it so bountiful, so full of vibrancy, that growing old(er) isn't something to scoff at, but a splendor for which we give thanks. How many times have you walked into a room, only to realize you have no idea why you're there? How often do you find yourself irrationally angry, becoming more upset by small things than you should be? And what the heck do these questions have to do with prayer? Well, you see, there's evidence in neuroscience that tells us focused, prolonged prayer not only increases our relationship with God, but actually proves physiologically beneficial. More simply, prayer can make your brain healthier. Of course there's reason to be skeptical of such an apparently radical claim, but there's also a balm to assuage those fears. This comes from a book, in which I'm currently engrossed, called, How God Changes Your Brain. While you might expect this kind of title to come from devoted practitioners or even fundamentalists of a particular religion, neither Dr. Andrew Newberg or Mark Robert Waldman are bound to a particular religious community. Newberg professes agnostic tendencies while Waldman identifies as a naturalist. In other words, there's a heavy spiritual skepticism from the researchers, and yet, they together conclude that meditation and prayer increase your brain's healthy activity. So it's actually healthy to say a (not so) little prayer for yourself everyday. I say more than a little prayer because these positive physical changes are seen when people pray daily for minimum of ten minutes. Buddhist monks and Catholic nuns, who've spent hours in prayer daily their whole lives, show the most profound neurological effects. I've got a number of friends who are spiritually curious but have expressed a profound skepticism about prayer. And who can blame them? Talking to a wall or fidgeting amidst an uncomfortable silence doesn't make a whole lot of sense on the surface. What Newberg and Waldman found, though, was that people who prayed, regardless of their belief, experienced the same benefits as devout believers, as long as they undertook the practice intentionally. In other words, if people desire to become holistically healthier, focus in the prayer, regulate their prayer's embodiment (such as following beads with the rosary or performing another simple, repetitive movement as you pray), and practice that daily, and expect that they can get achieve the goals they've set, then the benefits appear regardless of belief. That's the good news for us all: prayer, undertaken seriously with a desire to change can actually change us. I can understand why some people of faith might view this as problematic. One might ask if we're leasing our spiritual practices to scientific research. However, we must remember that, theologically speaking, we're embodied spirits. As creatures, we have an intertwined spiritual and physical existence, so it makes sense that there's spiritual benefit to physical health and physical benefit to spiritual health. This means that prayer, for Christians, is both a spiritual truth of engaging with God and a physical truth that exercise makes us healthier. We wouldn't scoff at the orthopedist who told us that exercising our joints with low impact cardiovascular movements like cycling or using an elliptical would keep our joints healthy as we strengthen our heart and other muscles. Why, then, would we balk at a neuroscientist certified in internal and nuclear medicine who tells us that exercising our mind and body together in focused, contemplative modalities can actually change the physiology of our brain? To me, that says God created us to be fully integrated creatures, that our prayers relate not only to heavenly thoughts but earthly realities. That's good news. So, wherever you're at on the spectrum of spirituality, take some time to develop a more focused, devoted prayer life. At the minimum, it can strengthen your brain, which helps your memory, increases your compassion, and reduces anxiety. As we Lutherans believe, it does even more than that: it connects you with the God who created you, who loves you, and who works for the salvation of your whole being, body and spirit. If you met an adolescent Friar Tucker, you'd find a teen obsessed with music from the punk, alternative, and grunge scenes of the 90's. One of the artists who still remains influential in my life today is Dave Grohl, lead of the Foo Fighters and former drummer of Nirvana. Not only am I ridiculously jealous of Grohl's ability to perform every instrument - drums, guitar, keys, vocals, maybe even a bassoon - better than I can play any of them, but I'm enthralled with his ability to lyrically state simple truths in ways that deeply resonate with my heartstrings. Not only does he often say what I feel, but he helps me more authentically address what I feel. More than just a young musician, though, Dave Grohl inspired me as a budding disciple of Jesus. Learn to Fly is one such song that wove together my experience as a child of the 90's and a child of God. In an interview, Grohl spoke of the song as a "search for the signs of life that make you feel alive." Simply, it's the pursuit of inspiration to live life to the fullest. Jesus talked about this in different terms, those of abundant life, and surely Jesus inspired us as Christians to live the most vibrant of lives, lives brimming with divinity in our humanity. The church, though, seems to constantly face the struggle of complacency. Rather then pursuing flight in our journey with God, we often seem content with crawling down the path. For instance, we seem content with collecting nonperishable goods for hungry people but avoid making meaningful relationships with these people while advocating for systemic political, economic, social, and religious change to eradicate hunger completely. We crawl to barely address the immediate opportunity to live abundant life while ignoring the possibility of multiplying that experience of God to all God's creatures. Certainly, I'm not advocating that we stop donating to food pantries. Indeed, we ought to celebrate the ways that we live out our discipleship already, no matter how big or small, and give thanks to God for leading us into that faithfulness. However, we ought never be satisfied with the limits of our faithfulness. God's calling us to fly, and in many ways, we're tied to the idea of walking. We can donate food, befriend those who face hunger, and work together to reshape a world with abundant food to share those goods so that no one goes hungry unwillingly. We can learn to fly. We can find life abundant. The question that comes to us, though, is are we willing to learn? Here's the weird thing. I began this blog post, on this topic, Sunday night. UNTIL IT DISAPPEARED FROM THE BLOGOSPHERE FOR REASONS UNKNOWN. Forgive my digital yelling, but just ask my wife about my reactions. This is somewhat tame. Now, I don't believe God caused my iPad or Weebly to glitch. I do believe, however, that God used that opportunity to introduce me to Sean.* You see, Sean came to the church in need of some assistance. We'd already helped Sean with some food cards last week while I was out of town, and our policy is to help families with a set amount so we can spread our resources out to make the largest impact across the community. It would have been easy for me to write off the situation, since we'd already helped him and since I'm terribly behind in a number of other work related areas. Yet, I remembered the now-absent blog post and this generalized desire to take leaps of faith beyond my habitual practices, so I sat and listened to Sean, heard his story, and prayed with him. I found out that he's in the midst of a divorce, lost his job due to poor health, and now faces food insecurity and near-homelessness on a regular basis. He's trying to get disability and find some part time work that he can manage, but he hadn't eaten a true meal in days since he was saving his pennies to get a permanent roof over his head. We then got in my car and went to the store together so I could buy him some more food. In the midst of this conversation, God pressed upon me that a "we helped you last week" stance seemed a pitiful version of grace to offer in this Easter season. I invited Sean to come back so we could develop our relationship and dropped him off at the apartment he's trying to afford. I didn't fly today, but God took that situation and reminded me of the blog post that I had started, which was born out of a desire to discover the abundant life God has in store for us all. God's presence in our conversation convicted me to do more, to not be satisfied with just good enough, to instead follow the guiding of the Holy Spirit into the realm of risking relationship. God's not just about barely living. God's about living abundantly. We need to learn to fly, not just crawl, not just walk, not even run, but to fly, to live a life beyond our human ability. That's what life abundant's all about. On my own, I probably wouldn't have helped Sean, or invited this relative stranger into my car, or bought him groceries. As an organization, we would have helped once this year and referred to other agencies. But life abundant means getting outside of what I would do, or we would do, and learning to live as Christ would. That's abundant life. That's learning to fly. I learned what abundant life was from God through Scripture and the Church through our life together in worship and service. But I learned about inspiration from Dave Grohl and others like him. The vitality I find in musical moments, when I feel fully alive, is a shadow of the vitality that God offers in Christ. But to embrace the Kingdom of God, to live in the divine realm with God, we've got to learn to fly, and most importantly, be willing to learn when God shows up. That's what God taught me when my blog died and I met Sean. *Sean isn't his real name, but all other details are true. The image is also a stock photo of someone who loosely resembles Sean. This might be the best compliment I've received since someone thought I was gay because I was affirming God's desire for full participation of LGBTQ+ people in the life of the church. As my wife will tell you, I excitedly called her after that interaction and exclaimed, "I can pass!?!" That was a hilariously good day.
You're a radical but you're not crazy about it. This came from a relatively new friend whose been attending our campus ministry gatherings this semester. This exchange student, after a few months working in a Caribbean orphanage, will return to Europe to complete their studies and then endeavor on building an intentional community in the model of Shane Claiborne's The Simple Way and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove's Rutba House. It was an impressive compliment to me because of the source. I'm so impressed by this friend, by their journey and willingness to dive into so many different experiences educationally, missionally, and relationally, all to embody the life of Jesus. I'm not blogging about this compliment to garner self congratulations on this quip from a sibling in Christ. Rather, I'm writing because it's almost Christmas and I haven't spoken in this forum since before the election. You might surmise that's because I was less than enthralled with the results. That's in large part correct, though those fears aren't primarily my own. The election of Donald Trump, as well as his ensuing cabinet picks, has stricken fear into the hearts of people I love. Friends in the LGBTQ+ community. Friends of color. Friends who are women. Friends who are Muslim or whose religious garb holds much in common with Islam. Friends who are immigrants, especially from Latin America. Now, there's more clear and convincing evidence that Russia influenced the election, hoping to lead to Trump's election. Whatever radicals are, they aren't silent. That's why I'm writing. My friend reminded me of who I want to be at my core, and fortunately, saw that active and alive in our campus ministry community. In reading the book Beyond the Screen along with other campus ministers from around the Southeastern U.S., I was reminded of the importance of digital presence, and specifically that social media are tools that can be used for the building up of community. I've also recently rediscovered a voice within myself while preaching after a drought where I felt largely dissatisfied with my sermons. In large part, that dissatisfaction grew from a place where I realized I was saying a lot of things but silent about the things that truly mattered. Radicals speak and act in ways that are consistent with their convictions. The primary definition of the word radical relates not to extreme behavior, but to connection to the root or the origin of a particular thing. This is helpful, for while we've taken radical to primarily mean something extreme, radical first connotes a fundamental tie to the core of your being. If your behavior arises from your convictions, that's a radical behavior in the most specific of definitions. Oddly enough, though, in our culture, that's also become seen as an extremist position. Take, for instance, the commitment of intentional living communities to pool their resources in common so that all who have need have access to those shared resources. This is a Biblical priority set out for church communities in Acts 2 and embodied in Jesus's command to give to those who ask. Most Christians consider this a radical approach because it seems extreme, when it's radicality is actually tied to the fact that a common purse is at the very origin of Christian practices. In a documentary following The Simple Way, these people were referred to as ordinary radicals. There's something nice about that, though I think my friend's words get to the heart a bit more clearly. Radical but not crazy. Authentic radicals? Compelling radicals? Just radicals? I'm not sure of the lingo yet, or whether the lingo matters that much. What I'm sure of is that those of us in the church are called to a radical life. We're called to live in constant communion with our root, our vine, who is Jesus Christ. The fruit we bear in word and deed should be evident that we rely upon God as the origin of our entire existence. Most days, I honestly don't feel like I live up to the compliment I was given. But I want to, and this public admission is a sort of accountability exercise. If you see me failing to embody the radical way of Jesus, call me on it. Help me to see where I can be a better image of God, where I can more accurately reflect God's love for the cosmos. Silence and empty words aren't enough, nor are inaction and distracted behavior. I want to be the radical my friend sees in me. Sometimes that desire is the best testimony we have to give. There are some pastors out there who stay away from politics altogether because they think the church has no role in politics. I can't do that, because Jesus's redemption of the world includes the political realm. Jesus has something to say to politics. There are other pastors out there who endorse candidates as God's chosen, as though the job of a democratically elected official is to perform on behalf of a faith. I won't do that, because this is an abuse of political power and unhealthfully binds the church to the state. Jesus has something to say to politics, but Jesus is beyond our politics. Jesus refused the crown in Israel and the church should avoid unfair political privilege. At some point, though, we've got to recognize that there's theological ramifications to our political choices. I'm not hoping just that you vote, though that's certainly a privilege all Americans ought to utilize. I'm praying - fervently - that you vote in ways that align with God's compassionate and inclusive witness found throughout the Scriptures. I'm praying that you emphasize the full personhood of women, the rights of immigrants and refugees, and the equal rights of all people. If you're white, male, or heterosexual, I'm praying that you vote in ways that reduce our privilege, because that's a good thing. Accomplishing equity isn't unfair, because giving others something we don't need in order to allow us the same experience is, in fact, a Biblical blessing (see, well, any of the prophets). If you're a conservative or a liberal or anywhere else on the spectrum of political preference, I'm praying that you identify this way because you find it to be life giving for everyone and not just yourself. In the midst of all of this, I hope you're taking serious account of the candidates words and how nonpartisan groups are grading their stated policies. I hope you're concerned that we don't have a viable candidate for peace. I hope you're concerned about the rights of African Americans, of Native Americans, and other groups who still feel active oppression in acute ways. I hope you're voting for citizens who are elderly, disabled, homeless, hungry, or who otherwise need assistance. I hope you're remembering that this country isn't yours, but ours, and that as a Christian we're called bless others with life abundant, regardless of their religious conviction. I hope you vote on Tuesday and that you keep that stuff in mind when you do. If you've already taken advantage of early or absentee voting, I hope some of these things were in your mind. Fundamentally, remember that we're not voting for a savior. We've already got one of those, and Jesus is fully what we need for that. As members of Christ's Body, Jesus calls us to fill in those areas where the government isn't reflecting God's kingdom. Voting allows us the opportunity to express our desire for a more compassionate, inclusive country, but no matter who ends up in office or what laws are passed, we're still called to lives of compassion and inclusive. No border wall, oppressive law, or prejudiced politician can remove our calling from Christ. I hope you vote on Tuesday, but on Wednesday, and every day thereafter, I pray that you'll live the kind of life you want to vote into office, and even more than that, the kind of abundant life opened to us in the cross and resurrection of Jesus. This should make you angry, This should make you lament. Terence Crutcher, with his hands up, surrounded by officers on the ground and in the air, shot dead.
There should be no referendum on his criminal background or whether he had one. He was unarmed with his hands up. There should be no grumbling about complete cooperation with officers' directives for stillness. He was unarmed, with his hands up. There should be no claims of justifiably because he seemed under the influence. He was unarmed. With his hands up. Terence Crutcher did not deserve to die. He did nothing to earn his death sentence. Whether Black or White, Latino or Hispanic (yes, there's a difference), Asian or African, poor or rich, whatever your gender or sexuality, no one deserves summary execution in the streets. He was UNARMED. With his HANDS UP. Stop blaming victims. Just stop. It's time to recognize that there's blatant injustice. It's time to call evil what it is. Not all cops are bad. That's not the point. The point is that, for some reason, a child of God, a brother in Christ, is dead. And already, people are out there looking for justifications rather than supporting the victim. It's time to stop victim-blaming people who are clearly victims, whose bodies have been labeled as threatening or dangerous simply because they're different than our bodies. Even when they're unarmed. With their hands up. Lord, we commend into your hands our brother, Terence Crutcher. We lament the unnecessary loss of life, and we commit him into your care. Make us bold to stand on the side of true justice. Give us courage to support all people, and especially those demonized or devalued in our culture. Remind us that #blacklivesmatter just as much as any other life. Remind us that the theology of the cross is not one of glory or power, but one of presence with those who suffer, that your promise is to liberate us from the chains of oppression and allegiance to sin. Remind us that, like Terence, you died unarmed with your hands up. When we see you in Terence, and Terence in you, maybe then we will be angry with tears for justice, with sobs for righteousness, with conviction that no one else need die unarmed with their hands up. Since Colin Kaepernick chose not to stand for the national anthem less than two weeks ago, there's been much fallout. We've learned that The Star Spangled Banner actually celebrates the slaughter of freed slaves. We've learned that Kaepernick isn't alone among professional athletes who want to see change in our country. We've also learned that a bevy of veterans support Kaepernick's right to sit or stand during the anthem.
My concern here, though, is the Christian response. There's an example from Sojourners that notes the necessity of protest against injustice from a Christian perspective. Patheos connects the story to Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in front of Nebuchadnezzar, and goes so far as to say, "if you’re telling your kids that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego did the right thing (by refusing to bow to Nebuchadnezzar's god), but Kaepernick did the wrong thing, you’re sending them mixed messages." The Christian Science Monitor even suggested that Colin may be the new face of patriotism. I found these most encouraging, that there were people of faith ready to defend Colin's constitutional and biblical grounding. Of course, there's another side, perhaps typified by an article from Charisma News. Therein the author suggested that Colin was actually being selfish, putting his team in a negative light, and suggests that Colin doesn't truly understand the problems of racism and racial profiling in our country. This seems to fit the social media outcry that I've seen from too many Christians, ridicule Colin for exercising a constitutional right in order to create a conversation around the constitutional rights of people of color across the country. Yet, what concerns me most about the response from Christians is the assumption that we owe absolute allegiance to a flag or a country. In 2nd Corinthians, Paul reminds us that Christians are Christ's ambassadors to the places in which we live. And let's not forget: ambassadors are not citizens of the country where they live. Their citizenship belongs to their country of origin and to the ruler who sent them. Christians are citizens of God's kingdom first, and our allegiance is not first to a flag, or a song, or a constitution, but to the God made known in Christ. Now, this doesn't mean we're supposed to hate the countries in which we live; far from it! Max Lucado once wrote, “God loves you just the way you are, but God refuses to leave you that way. God wants you to be just like Jesus.” This, it seems, should be our outlook as God's ambassadors. We should love our countries, but in a way that seeks their transformation. There is no perfect country, so of course we must at times protest, we must at times work to change our constitution, in order to pursue further justice. Or, in the words of 2nd Corinthians, to negotiate with the world so that it might reconcile with God. I can't pretend to know the inner workings of Colin's faith or mind. What I can say, though, is that as people of faith, we too must be ready at times to not salute everything that our country does. Blind allegiance is not an allegiance worth offering. When our country incarcerates 2.2 million people, 500,000 more than China, a country four times our size, we should not salute that. When it's less likely for people with "black-sounding names" to be hired for jobs or responded to by their government, we should not salute that. When people of color are more likely to experience violence at the hands of our government officials, we should not salute that. Instead, as Christ's ambassadors, we should be pointing to God's preference for those who are imprisoned, for those who are ostracized, for those who experience injustice, and work to bring change that reflects God's reconciliation of all things in Christ Jesus. |
AuthorSimultaneously a sinner and a saint. Archives
September 2020
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