The Trumping of Jesus

Well, it is done.  Donald Trump is the Republican nominee.  The balloons have fallen, and now we prepare for Hillary.

Over the past few months, and especially the last few days, we have been overrun by coverage of The Donald.  Even if you don’t watch the news.  Even if all you were looking for was a cute cat video or an update on a friend’s pregnancy, you have been blasted with Trump.

But what have you seen?  Support of Trump, sure.  Mocking of Trump, yes.  Vitriol, fear, incredulity.  But I think the main thing you have seen is that like him or hate him, he is the focus of so many people.

In my opinion, we talk about him far too much.  But of even greater concern is how we talk about him.

Listen for just a few moments to either a supporter or detractor and you get the same feeling: Donald Trump has the power to change the world!  No one mentions that it is that pesky congress that makes laws (whether you like or hate “Obamacare” remember congress had to pass it first.)  Never mind that the power of the President is limited (I highly suggest listening to this Freakonomics podcast about presidential power).  Apparently Trump has the ability to either resurrect American greatness or flush us all irrevocably down the toilet.  He sounds like a Greek god.  The only question is his intent.

Really?  Is that what we think?

Don’t get me wrong.  I want good leaders.  Like good laws.  But…

Whoever the president is cannot make me love or hate my neighbor.  They cannot make me stop teaching recovering drug addicts ways to improve their closes relationships.  Trump can’t rob me of the joy my children bring me or the excitement I feel about a newborn.  Hillary won’t make church better or worse.  They can’t make me treat my wife with honor and respect, or stop me from doing so.  The president cannot control my morality, my ethics, my compassion.

The important things cannot be touched, because they don’t come from the president.

They come from Jesus.

Remember Him?

He’s the guy who constantly said “Fear not.”  The one who announce he was The Way, Truth, and Life.  The fellow who claimed that the kingdoms of this world can’t touch his.

I am not trying to disparage anyone who has political concerns.  Nor am I trying to convince you how to vote.  Rather, I am simply asking: Do you fear Donald Trump (or Hillary Clinton) more than you trust Jesus?  Does your anxiety about this election in any way line up with your beliefs about Jesus as savior?  Do we give the president too much power over our lives and Jesus not enough?

I do hear Christians asking who Jesus would vote for.  And more often I hear Christians proclaiming they know who Jesus would vote for.  I sometimes wonder, if Jesus were running, and His platform was radically different from the Republican or Democrat, would we vote for Him?  Have we so bought that the way to really change the world is through politics that we have forgotten the one who actually changes hearts.

Perhaps I am wrong, but it seems a lot of us Christians actually believe that the key to Christianity and the future of this world is who gets elected.  But I thought we already had a king?

STOP

I think the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back was a Facebook post I read two weeks ago.

It was a Sunday and I was putting something on the church Facebook page.  My eye was drawn to a post that was sharing some commentary about the death of Nancy Reagan.  It caught my attention.  I didn’t care about the commentary, I just didn’t know that the former first lady had died. (With seven kids, staying up on the news cycle has become a priority somewhere between writing the great American novel and trying out for the NBA.  Things I would like to do, but have no time for.)  I have no particular affection for Mrs. Reagan, it’s just that her husband was the president of my childhood.

The commentary on her passing was pretty harsh.  The writer was not a fan of Mrs. Reagan.  And then came the comments.  I know it is a mistake to read them, but since some of them were by people I know, I couldn’t help it.

They were brutal.

I know I shouldn’t be surprised by what people are willing to say online.  But a woman had just died.  A woman who actually never held office.  Yet, she was called despicable names.  Called a racist.  A homophobe.  And numerous words I choose not to write here because they are beyond offensive. Some of those posting a comment consider themselves Christians.  But they simply joined the chorus.

Again, let me make it clear.  I am not some kind of fanboy of the Reagans.  There were many policy thoughts shared in the commentary about which I know nothing.  What I am writing is not about politics.  It is not about Nancy Reagan.  This is about us.  About Christians.  About how we talk.  About how we talk online.  About how we talk about politics.

The apostle Paul says the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  He doesn’t say be kind, unless you disagree politically.  Be gentle unless you think the other person doesn’t share your political philosophy.  Be patient except with those who don’t think exactly like you.

I wonder if you took all that Christian’s post or write online about politics, would the word joy describe any of it?  We claim to want peace, but our words stir up divisiveness and animosity.  In the name of love (loving our country, loving the poor) we spew vitriol and hatred.

What are we doing?  I am truly flabbergasted.

The only thing I can think to say in response is simply this:

Stop.  Just stop.

STOP!

The hateful rhetoric with which we often talk politics is blatantly unchristian.  Yet we cannot seem to be close to civil when discussing the other party’s candidates, or remotely objective when discussing our party’s.  Much of what we claim about the goodness of Christ goes out the window once we start discussing welfare and social security, Obamacare and guns.  Our speech shows we care more about an earthly election than the kingdom of God.  And we need to stop!

Just because the other person’s politics doesn’t fit your view of social justice doesn’t give you the right to call them a racist.  STOP.

No more name calling.  STOP.

No more assuming the motives of someone with whom we disagree.  STOP.

No more calling people evil because they choose to vote differently.  STOP.

Liberals are not libtards.  STOP.

Conservatives aren’t fascists.  STOP.

And by the way, a rant on Facebook that your twenty friends read isn’t an act of social justice.  Just STOP.

In an effort to cultivate the fruit of the Spirit, perhaps the best thing for many of us to do is to not comment.  To resist the urge to immediately make our case.  To learn the art of shutting up.  To just STOP!  If love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and gentleness are not going to be a part of what we say, then we need to exercise some self-control.  Just don’t speak.

Recently, I have heard many people ask, “How can someone call themselves a Christian and vote for Trump?”  Here is a better question:  How can someone talk about others the way we do and still claim we are following Jesus?

There are many concerned with Mr. Trump’s rhetoric.  They worry that his words will lead us into a rough place as a nation.  Perhaps.  But my take is that his words aren’t new.  His attitude is something I have read in the comments for years.  He is a reflection.  Not a reflection of a particular political philosophy.  But a reflection of a cultural attitude.  Attack.  Name call.  Show blatant disregard for those with whom you disagree.  This isn’t something new.  It is how many of us already act.  And we need to stop.

 

Confessions of a Pacifist Wannabe

The recent outbreak of terrorist attacks has once again pushed me into a corner.  As a follower of Jesus, I long to respond appropriately.  I am sad for our world.  I want to help (though there appears to be little I can actually do).  To be honest I feel pretty inept.

Then, I read an article, or a blog post.  I sit in a conversation.  I hear people’s fears and hopes.  I witness a discussion about “how Jesus would respond.”

Jesus says things like “love your enemies” and “turn the other cheek.”  And I agree with him.  Not that I think like Jesus.  But over a lifetime of my blundering around I have become convinced that Jesus generally knows what he is talking about.  So I long to do those things.  I want to be like Jesus.  He is crucified, yet while dying asks God to forgive those perpetrating this horrible act.  That is my example.

So, I want to be a non-violence guy.  A pacifist.  I don’t want to fight or shoot anyone.  I want to be like Jesus.

But, it is way more complicated than don’t shoot or fight.  I wish it wasn’t, but for me it is.  And so I confess: I am a wannabe pacifist.  I desperately long to follow the path of Jesus.  But I lose faith.  Or get confused.  Or sometimes think we don’t truly understand Him.

Here are some of my struggles.

I believe in non-violence.  But should I demand that my government believe in that as well?  Or my neighbor?  My confidence in the way of Jesus, in his grace and love, is what allows me to even attempt to be a person who shuns violence.  What right have I to ask someone else who does not share that confidence to do the same?

I think it is wrong to shoot someone.  So if there is someone breaking into my house, should I call the police, who may arrive and shoot someone?  Or at least will meet violence with force.

Can a Christian be a police officer?  In the military?

How about voting.  If I believe a policy or candidate is good, even “Jesusy”, and vote for them, am I okay with how that policy is enforced?  Laws I think are good and righteous are inevitably enforced with violence.  Obey or we will come with guns and make you.  Is that the Jesus way?

Is it right to go on Facebook or Twitter and demand Christians “turn the other cheek” while living under the protection of the most well-equipped and trained Armed Forces in the world?

Can I say to the Jew in the concentration camp, “we are over here praying for our enemies” and do nothing to free them?  How about the women being raped by ISIS?

Am I cool with violence being committed that is “just”?  I’ll be honest, I feel pretty okay about the Paris police shooting guys who were mowing down people at a sidewalk café.  How else would they have stopped?  So am I okay with that as long as I don’t have to do it?  As long as Christians don’t?

Yes, I believe love is bigger than fear.  But if I go on the internet castigating those who are more scared than loving right now do I really understand love?

I can be a pacifist when someone attacks me (if that happens), that is the example of Jesus.  But can I be one when someone else is attacked?  Should I?

I hear cries from Christian’s for justice.  We want the poor to be helped, the suffering to be comforted, those discriminated against to be made equal.  Is violence or at least the threat of okay if it brings about those good and righteous ends?

So, I am confused.  I am trying.  I make lots of attempts to cultivate love in my life.  I haven’t hit anyone in a really long time.  I don’t spank my kids.  I am working to be a pacifist.  But I don’t have all the answers.  My non-violence is not airtight.  And because of that I refuse to go on Social Media and demand that everyone “love our enemies” without admitting both how difficult, and complicated that truly is.  We need to do more than quote the Bible (yes I said it).  We need to be willing to have the hard conversations, to admit our understanding isn’t complete, to be honest that it is far easier to demand love than to figure out how to pull it off.

Questions about Abortion and Life

(This is the third in a series on abortion, planned parenthood, children and pregnancy.  You can read part 1 here or part 2 here.)

To say that talking about abortion is like opening a can of worms may be the greatest understatement of all time. There is so much emotion and ideology attached that once the word abortion is uttered the lines of defense are instantly drawn, the trenches dug, and everyone settles in for war. To try to ask people to see things from other points of view, or even acknowledge the other side may have a decent point or two, is to stand in no-man’s land with machine gun fire coming from both sides.

Yet, that is what I want to do.

Now, I definitely have a stance. I have really strong beliefs. But I do try to see and hear others.

So what I pose here are just some thoughts and questions. I am not pretending that some of them aren’t slanted. They are. I am not saying that I have all the answers. I don’t. But I wish that instead of blindly defending what we think, we would at least allow a question or two to seep in.

Please use this to simply think. If reading one of these questions or thoughts makes you want to instantly stop reading, or convinces you that I am in some other camp that you want no part with then slow down. Think. Why did that push your buttons? Too often we claim to be willing to listen, to be open-minded, to legitimately look at things from other perspectives, but when push comes to shove we quickly dismiss even a thought-provoking question if it differs with our own views. Just take it in. Think.

And please don’t assume that you know my answer to all of these questions. Some of them I don’t even know what my answer is.

 

If the reason for allowing abortion is that “it is a woman’s body, and she has the right to do with it as she wills”, then shouldn’t prostitution be legal? What about me selling my kidney to someone who needs a transplant?

We have a huge movement in our country to do things naturally. Eat organic, be at one with nature. Yet, many women who wouldn’t dare darken the doors of McDonald’s take birth control pills that dramatically alter what their body naturally does. Why is one okay but the other is not? And then how “natural” is abortion?

Can we please find better language for all this stuff? I read a blog post (written by a woman) that I felt was pretty even-handed in its approach to the Planned Parenthood videos. Yet, the comments were brutal, mean, and one even claimed that the writer was part of a war on women. Seriously? Just because someone is pro-baby doesn’t make them anti-woman does it? Do we have to paint each other into a corner because we are afraid if we actually listened to one another we might learn something or maybe even have to change? If all you can do is chant for your side (whichever that is), and paint the other side as evil, then maybe that is a huge part of the problem?

Let me ask a question to those who are pro-life: What are you doing besides voting and complaining to be a part of the life-giving solution? Are you adopting kids? Fighting for justice? Seeking ways to help the poor and suffering? Trying to stop wars and violence?

Let me ask a question to those who are pro-choice: If someone truly believes that a murder is being committed, what do you expect them to do? I mean, if I knew that someone was going to murder your mother, wouldn’t you want me to do everything in my power and then some to stop it? If someone believes abortion is murder, would you think much of them if they just did nothing?

I hear some people make the point that if the “conservative ” camp cares so much about life, then why aren’t they doing more to stop wars, domestic violence, the death penalty, etc…? You know what; I think that is a pretty good point.

I hear some people make the point that if the “liberal” camp cares so much about stopping something like the death penalty, why don’t they care more about abortion since for every 1 person executed in the United States there are around 25,000 abortions? You know what; I think that is a pretty good point.

I am pro-life. Let me explain. I am for senseless killing to stop, whether it is done with a gun, a grenade, an electric chair, or a scalpel. There is far too much people killing people in this world.

I am pro-choice. Let me explain. I believe that one of the first things God gives people is freedom. They get to choose to even do stupid stuff. We can choose to do things that hurt us or our relationships, or we can choose to do things that bring joy and peace. But we all have the right to choose. However, my personal belief is that rather than defining abortion as the moment of choice, it would be more honest to look at all the choices we make that lead up to that moment.

Finally let me say, I follow Jesus. He is the Lord of Life. Therefore, I stand for life and dignity anywhere I can. But that does not mean that I hate or disparage someone who has an abortion. No, I treat them with love and dignity as well. I just hope that we can all move beyond the idea that we have to hate the other side, as well as come to a place where someone can think what we are doing is completely wrong, but we don’t interpret that as hate. It is the only way this discussion can ever move forward.

The Language of Children

(This is the second in a series of posts about parenting, children, birth control and abortion.  To read part one click here.)

Let me explain what an accident is. If I am driving down the road, and hit a patch of oil, and careen out of control into another car, that is an accident. I certainly hope that no one gets hurt. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t drive recklessly or over the speed limit. It was an accident.

But if I intentionally drive over that middle line and ram my car into oncoming traffic? That is not an accident. Now, I may have made sure that I and everyone in my car was wearing a seat belt. But if someone is hurt I don’t get to claim “I didn’t mean for you to get bumps and bruises.” No. If you drive head on into oncoming traffic that is not an accident.

If you have sex, a pregnancy is not an accident. That child is not an accident. And we need to stop calling them such.

The way we talk about children often borders on shameful. They are accidents. They are expensive. They are burdens.

And sometime our more subtle ways of talking about kids is even worse. We post on Facebook about how tired we are because of these little ones. We describe with utter joy any moment when they are not with us.

In fact, from the way many people talk about their children, I want to ask them why. Why do you have them? If they are this much burden, this much of a drag, if they keep you from doing almost everything you want to do, why have them? And certainly, why have more?

Now, maybe these parents don’t meant it. They are simply venting frustrations. Actually, they are very glad to have those kiddos in their life. That could be the case. I’m sure that for some it is. But if they really want and love and find joy in those kids, then, why all the complaining?

I think we complain and gripe because that is what the culture is teaching us. A parent should be tired and whiney. They should be jealous of all those with less responsibility. Having children is this giant burden that robs you of your identity, friends and money. And that is how we describe it. And after describing it that way for long enough, we come to believe that’s the truth.

Admittedly, parenting is hard. It is difficult. It is tiring. Parenting is often a struggle. Sometimes exhausting. Occasionally heartbreaking. And to top it off it is probably the most important job in the world. So there is also lots of pressure. Which is why it matters so much how we talk about our children or children in general. Parenting is hard enough without a constant reminder that we didn’t plan for this guy, or really want another, or wish they would just hurry up and grow up.

You see I am not just concerned about the way we talk about children affects them (although I can’t imagine what constantly overhearing that you are an accident does for your self-esteem). I am interested in how our language affects us.

Constant negativity in any arena will push us to see the difficulties much more than the joys.

A society that consistently complains about the burden and work of children can’t help but teach us that our goal should be to limit or avoid these hardships. Through birth control or even through abortion.

Here is my crazy idea: What if Christians, and especially Christian parents, determined to only say positive things about children? Imagine if every word that came out of our mouths regarding little ones was seasoned with joy, thoughtfulness, gratitude and appreciation. Wouldn’t it be great if the world around us said, “Boy those church people sure do like children.”

Now, some may argue that is unrealistic. That everything isn’t always great. True. It just seems to me that our culture has swung so far the other way, that we are so bombarded with the negative about parenting and children, that us speaking about joys and gratitude might start pulling us back more toward the middle.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them.” Is that how we feel? Is that what we say? Do we want them with us? Are they a burden or a blessing?

Planned? Parenthood

(This is the first in a series of posts about children, parenting, and abortion.)

With so much in the news about Planned Parenthood, I wanted to speak to something that rarely gets talked about. I do this not as a pastor or citizen, but rather as a father. And what I want to talk about is not federal dollars or hidden cameras or even abortion. No, I want to talk about slogans.

Planned Parenthood’s slogan for years was “Every Child A Wanted Child”. Which sounds great. Who thinks it wouldn’t be a better world if every child that was born was greeted with joy and expectation? I love to hear someone get so excited over the little one they are about to bring into the world. And I know how important it is, what a difference it makes, for a child to be loved by people who are ready and capable.

Where I differ with Planned Parenthood, and to be honest with many people including other Christians, is how to get there.

We have become convinced that a baby should come when we say so. We use pills and condoms and iuds and shots to wait for (in our opinion) the perfect moment. When we finally have it all together. When we have just the right partner, the right job, the right financial situation. And yet…that is not how it works.

I have yet to meet a single person who claims that when they had their first child, no matter when, they were truly ready.

How do you actually prepare for the late nights with a colicky baby? Yes, we may mature as we get older (some people definitely do not!). But, while we can promote growth and self-discipline, that is not what people mean when they say they are ready for a child (or for another child).

No, what we mean is typically this: I have a feeling that says I am now ready for a baby.

Many things may or may not play into that feeling. Financial situation, marital status, age, employment and a myriad of factors that are impossible to quantify. Yet, people with no money in the bank will want a baby, and those with millions may say they are not ready. There is no factor that is magic. Because we are talking about a feeling.

So, on the one hand we seem to be waiting for a very specific feeling that says “I am ready”. But there is another side as well.

There is a logic that says that giving people access to birth control actually reduces abortion. And it makes sense. Without the birth control Planned Parenthood helps provide, some of those women would probably get an abortion.

But we have to think deeper. What if our reliance on birth control has led us to the false belief that whatever I do sexually, there shouldn’t be consequences? What if the fact that we feel like we can control when we get pregnant, leads us to believe we should completely control that whole process? Therefore, of course abortion is an option, because our mentality is that we shouldn’t have to deal with a pregnancy we don’t want. I don’t have that feeling that I am ready for a child, so…

Maybe we have more abortions, because our sexual behavior requires no maturing. What if our reliance on avoiding pregnancy while still having the pleasure of sex, is part of what keeps us immature? Think about it. The birth control industry teaches us that we should enjoy this intimate act, but we shouldn’t have to deal with a single consequence. I should be able to have sex whenever and with whomever I want without cost. We think we can make sex “safe”, but we are fooling ourselves. There is nothing “safe” about it. But, one of the things we have put to great risk by believing sex can be without consequence is our own spiritual and emotional growth.

So, the way we have sex does not require or foster maturing. And since we are not maturing, we simply wait for a feeling that tells me the time is now.

What if there is another way, a different path?

A Road Less Travelled

I must really love kids. At least that is how some people see it. They assume that having a large family means that was the goal. Others think we are crazy, or that we belong to some type of cult that worships pregnancy (I actually laughed out loud writing that.)

But the truth is much stranger.

You see, I don’t have seven children because seven times my wife and I determined that we were ready. Sure, we talked about that. Living in a society where people constantly talk about ready or not ready, or how they are “trying”, or that their youngest was an “accident”, you can’t help but think that way. But that has not been our determining factor. No, the reason we have seven kids is because…

See, you really want to know.   I find this all the time. People will talk with me who are obviously flabbergasted. They can’t even imagine a reason. It is so far removed from our cultural expectations. Because we have all bought in. We may frown upon abortion, but we do believe that we know best when it comes to the exact right number and timing of children.

And that is what my wife and I have given up. We have determined that actually, we may not know best. That our “feeling” shouldn’t be the all-determining factor. That our selfishness is too great. That for every child to be wanted requires us to want whatever child comes our way.  And that wanting any child is a spiritual discipline.

That doesn’t mean I look down on someone who doesn’t have children or doesn’t want children or uses birth control. I don’t. But I do believe that most people I know have never thought outside that box. Birth control is assumed. What would happen if we no longer assumed?

It certainly doesn’t mean I look with disdain on a teenage mom, or a college student who has an abortion. No. In fact, they have my utmost sympathy. They are being dragged through a culture that has taught them only one way to think: Have sex when you want-get pregnant when you want. For millennia sex and pregnancy were intimately connected. You can’t suddenly unplug them and not expect something to happen.

As a kid, my family would often go and eat Mexican food. After filling up on chips, salsa, nachos, refried beans, enchiladas and everything else, we would be very slowly making our way out of the restaurant when my father would say, “ooh, I am not ever doing that again.” And yet, a few days later, there we were once again filling up on chimichangas and tamales. If we could have taken a pill that would undue or shield us from the consequences of that meal, we probably would have. After all, we would have eaten Tex-Mex every day if we had the money and the stomach for it. Luckily, no such pill exists. Otherwise, I would never eat a vegetable or a salad. Tex-Mex all the time for me. Which would be horrible for me.

Anytime we divorce the normal consequences of an action from that action we are incentivizing behavior. That is what we are doing with birth control. It incentivizes sex on the front end, and may create a culture where abortion seems reasonable on the back-end.

So, in response to the outrage and counter-outrage about the Planned Parenthood videos, I am not calling for people who are having abortions to stop. I am calling for us to consider something much bigger. What if we changed our entire outlook on children? What if we decided to want every child? What if we looked at the tight bonds that exist between marriage, sex, pregnancy and family and held them up not simply as nice ideals but as real possibilities?  What if we fostered the idea that “every child a wanted child” isn’t just a slogan, it can be a reality?

Are we at least willing to consider that there might be another way?

(Next Week: The way we talk about children and how it influences our choices)

From Israel to Charleston

A couple of years ago I spent an amazing ten days in Israel and Jordan. I met incredible people and saw places that made both history and the Bible come alive.

The person who fascinated me the most was our guide. We spent nearly the entire time traversing Israel with an interesting fellow. I have thought about him much in the past few days.

Our guide was a retired gentleman. I am not sure what his job was before retiring, it appears to have been secretive. He was both knowledgeable and curious. When he discovered I was a pastor, he asked me to bring my Bible along and read pertinent passages about the places we visited (even though he is a secular Jew).

At the border with Syria he told the story of his involvement in the Yom Kippur War. He was working his job when his unit was called up. Within twenty-four hours he was on the battlefield in a tank! He shared his fear that if they lost the battle everyone he loved would die. He told about helping stop the slaughter of a large group of P.O.W.s. Eventually, he became quiet and said that he had shared all he could muster.

What I remember most distinctly was our visit to Yad Vashem, the Israeli holocaust museum. Silently making our way through the corridors, I was filled with reverence and pain. I completely lost track of time. Nothing else seemed important. As you get ready to leave the museum and head out on the grounds, there is a book that you can sign or leave comments. I desperately wanted to place my name there. But I had to wait a long time on the people in front of me. It was an older gentlemen, pushing a much older woman in a wheelchair. From the brief conversation I overheard, it was clear that this was his mother, who had come from America for her great-grandson’s Bar Mitzvah. The man mentioned to a security guard the she was a holocaust survivor. When it was her turn at the book, she stood. She began to write. It took her a long time. I waited patiently. She began to cry. Finally, she could write no more and collapsed into her wheelchair. Her son pushed her outside.

I approached the book, ready to write my name. But my eyes were attracted to the tear-stained page on which the woman had written. It simply said, “I miss you.” And then below it had name after name after name of relatives lost in the holocaust. I tried to write my name, but my weeping made it almost impossible.

As I shared this experience with our guide, he told me about his wife. She lost much of her family in the holocaust. He said that a couple of years ago he found a great deal on a car. She refused to let him buy it. Because it was a Volkswagen.

Whenever I hear Israel mentioned on the news, or read about Israeli politics online, I think about these things. Not because I am somehow now determined to side with Israel on everything. But because it helps me understand. It puts me, just a little bit, in the shoes of a Jew. It reminds me that behind words and rhetoric there are experiences and suffering and pain.

As I think about controversies here in the United States, I wonder if much of what we are lacking is a sense of understanding the story of others. It is one thing to know something about the holocaust, it is quite something else to visit a holocaust museum with people who barely survived it. Too often we speak in abstraction about right and wrong. To hear other’s stories makes it real. It doesn’t necessarily mean we will change our stance, but we will now be thinking about what our position truly means or does to others.

I am thinking today about the “rebel” flag. There may be lots of reasonable reasons to keep it up. I am for freedom of speech.

But can you imagine flying a Nazi flag in front of my friends from Israel?

Walk a little bit in another person’s shoes. Try to imagine what it is like to see a flag flying that represented a cause that held your great-grandparents in slavery.  Attempt to see that flag planted in the middle of the night in your front yard.  Visualize it being carried by men in white hoods as they parade through the streets of the very town where I grew up, just a few years ago.  I understand it may represent a lot of different things to you, but can we think about what it represents to them.

Perhaps our most under-utilized spiritual gift is our imagination. With our imagination we can attempt to see things from other perspectives. With our imaginations we can struggle with what it would be like to be a descendant of a concentration camp survivor. With our imaginations we might gain a little appreciation for what it is like to be black in the southern United States. I know we can never truly walk in other’s shoes. But I think it is time that we used the imagination God gave us to hear some stories and feel some pain.

The beauty of the incarnation is that it is the ultimate act of imagination.  God does not have to wonder what it is like for us.  He became us.  He walked in our shoes.  And He calls us to imagine with Him what life is like for others.

Whether the flag stays up or comes down is ultimately, perhaps, not the biggest deal. But before you decide, have you talked with some black people about it? Have you tried to see it from their view? Is this just all an abstraction, a game of logic?  Or can we think in terms of real people?  Are we willing to imagine?

Not Surprised by the Duggars

I hate to do this, but let me begin with a disclaimer: I have never seen “The Duggars.” I know they have a TV show about them raising a bunch of kids. I have never watched it. Not once. Partly because I do not have cable. Partly because I have enough to do without watching someone else who has plenty to do. And partly because if I do watch TV I want it to be a slight escape from a life of raising and homeschooling numerous children. So everything I am about to say is based entirely on ignorance. But as you will see, that may actually help.

What I do know is this: I am not surprised.

Whoa, wait a minute. Not surprised? Is that because I always thought these people were a bunch of hypocrites? No. Am I not shocked because I think the way they raise their kids destined this? No. As I said, I don’t know these people, don’t watch their show.

The reason I am not surprised is this: Sin gets in.

No matter all the other stuff circulating around this (liberal against conservative, homeschooling and public schooling, bunch of kids versus a small family, and a billion other things) one fact is inescapable: Sin gets in.

You can’t hide from sin. Homeschooling isn’t the problem, sin is. Just as public schooling isn’t the problem, sin is. Sin is a power, a force that is relentless. That doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t seek better ways to do things. We should. Ideas should be weighed against others. Studies assessed. But the ultimate reality we sometimes refuse to face head on is this: Sin doesn’t stop because we do things well. No matter what our version of “well” is.

A government program can rearrange who has the money, but it can’t destroy greed. A family can shelter their kids from the media, but lust finds ways in. Background checks and bathroom buddies may help, but they aren’t foolproof. No, at some point we all must face the truth; sin finds a way.

I wish it was otherwise. That the perfect blend of psychology, sociology, laws, etc…could form some sort of shield. I long for a magic formula. If you will make sure your kids don’t watch this movie or hang out with that person, everything will be honky-dory. It simply doesn’t exist.

In response, some of us have decided to build a fort. To shelter our kids and families. To try to keep sin out with lots of rules and regulations. We live in fear of our kids being exposed to the wrong people. I understand that fear. It recognizes the power of sin. But often that fear which so gets the power of sin, doesn’t recognize the power of God. It is often empowered by the belief that doing enough things the right way somehow makes me ineligible for the bad stuff. But it doesn’t. And often those who have bought this fort mentality implode when sin finds a way through the back door.

But others have tried another route.  Since sin gets in, then we can do nothing, and we do almost nothing. We give in to the notion that sin is unstoppable, so why try.  This comes out in phrases like, “Well, teens are gonna have sex, nothing you can do.” Or, “She’s just a teenage girl, that’s how they act.” Or even, “He’s in the Terrible Two’s”. All of these ways of discussing people, especially children, assume the worst in people. They are animals who can’t control themselves. All you can hope to do is survive the calamities they will surely bring. Life becomes about “managing” our sin and the sin of others.  It leaves us not only cynical, but unwilling to even attempt to live in a holy or pure way.

This may all sound so very defeatist. Like what’s the point. Just let whatever happens happen. You can’t stop it anyway, so why try? But that’s not how I feel. You see, facing the reality of the power and scope of sin forces us to admit that what we need is something more powerful than sin. We are being bullied, and we need somebody to step in and show the bully the door.

At the heart of the Christian faith is the belief that, yes, sin and death are strong…but Jesus is stronger. That sin can put us in a hole of guilt and shame so deep…but grace is deeper. That the hate and distrust that devour our relationships is overwhelming…but can be overwhelmed by love.

I hope there is a third way to live. A place where we don’t seclude ourselves in forts, but also don’t give up hope. I want to live in the way of grace. Now, it is a hard place to live. Because on the one hand grace says, “Do your best” but also admits, “Bad stuff can happen.” A graceful life understands there is no insurance; that it isn’t all in our hands. Grace knows we can’t control anyone outside of ourselves (and often we don’t even do that well). The whole idea of grace begins with the admission that sin is powerful and bad things do happen to good people. But grace won’t let us give up. It won’t let us hide from the world, or live in fear, or became cynical and jaded and just give in. No, we trust in the One who points us toward how to live and gives us mercy when we don’t quite pull it off.  So there is always hope.

We all need to wake up to the power of sin.  To understand that no government program or parenting ideal or church done just right can fix the human heart.  Sin gets in.  And then, once we get our eyes wide open, once we see how truly powerful sin is, we may be ready to follow the One who overcomes sin and death.

Everything But Jesus

I love the time I live in. I see so many positive changes in the church. Brothers and sisters more concerned with helping the poor than getting extra stuff. Different groups “laying down their arms” to try to get along with each other. True attempts to love our enemies, or turn the other cheek, or invite in the stranger. Some days it is humbling. At certain moments it is downright electrifying.

However, there is one trend that actually gives me pause. And perhaps it is just me. Maybe I am not seeing it clearly. What I have noticed is this: quite often I am seeing Christians willing to do so much wonderful ministry and service in honor of the way of Christ, but unwilling to mention Jesus.

Now, I am a big believer that we have often done evangelism completely wrong. We have been pushy. We have claimed to have in our possession the key to eternal life while acting like arrogant snobs. We have demanded belief in Jesus while refusing to live out his teachings in our own lives. We have been judgmental and hypocritical.

But as so often happens, our reaction has swung us far the other direction.

While it is Jesus that compels us to love and welcome and feed and serve, many of us have decided that mentioning Him somehow makes our service insincere. We don’t want to be seen as serving others just so they will convert. It is not that we are ashamed of Jesus, we just don’t want to be an affront to others by bringing Him up.

Yet, there are two truths I can’t avoid. 1. You don’t have to convert or come to church or follow Jesus for me to love and serve you. 2. But, if Jesus hadn’t radically changed my life, I wouldn’t be loving and serving you.

You see, while I understand our trepidation at how talking about Jesus colors our ministry, I can’t escape the fact that without Jesus, my ministry wouldn’t exist. He has saved me, changed me, healed me, and shaped me. If there is any good in me that comes out in actions toward others it is because of Christ. I am a selfish, prejudiced, judgmental jerk. That is who I am without Jesus. But I actually do try to love and serve those around me. Why? Because Jesus is changing me. It is not that Jesus “forces” me to love you, it is simply that He has changed me to the point I actually do love you.

This has nothing to do with our view of the after-life. You don’t have to be a “turn or burn” Christian. It is just unfathomable to me that I might give you money, or time, or hours of service, or even a significant relationship, but I would refuse to share the most valuable thing I have. This seems more selfish than not serving you at all.

Imagine you build a hospital. It is designed specifically for cancer patients. You make it more like home than a hospital. The needs of the family are looked after as well as the patient. Everyone who visits talks about it being the most well-run, loving, hopeful cancer hospital they have ever seen. There is only one catch…while the hospital possesses the cure for cancer, it refuses to divulge it. This would be insane!

I want the church to love the poor because that is what Jesus would do. I want us to welcome the stranger because that is a sign that the gospel it at work among us. I want my brothers and sisters to find radical ways to love our enemies and treat them as God treats us. And I want to do all of that because Jesus has a hold on me. He compels me. He moves me. He makes me unselfish and loving in ways I would never be on my own. And so, at some point, I want all those people we love and serve to have Him too.

Death Comes First

What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? ² By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? ³ Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? ⁴ We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.

⁵ For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. ⁶ For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin— ⁷ because anyone who has died has been set free from sin.

(Romans 6:1-7)

When reading the apostle Paul, one of the defining characteristics of his thought is the absolute necessity of death for those who wish to walk with Jesus. We are to crucify the sinful nature, crucify our minds, put to death the old self.

But far too often, we Christians want to run to Easter. We want the joy of the resurrection without the suffering of death. We long for a new life, while clinging to so much of the old. It seems we forget what should be obvious: Resurrection can only occur where there is death.

God longs to resurrect us. He is the giver of new life. That is his part. He brings the dead to life. No one else can do it.

But our role is to put things to death. To crucify that which needs to die so something wonderful can take its place. We often lament that we live in a world that has become so good at dishing out death. And yet, the one place where death would be good for us, we often shrink from killing.

We want resurrection for our marriage, but are we willing to first put to death the selfishness that is destroying it?

We want so desperately for others to view the kingdom of God as we do, but are we willing to crucify the arrogance and self-righteousness that pushes so many away?

We demand that our brothers and sisters conform to the values of Jesus, but are we willing to destroy that part of us that berates and mocks them when they don’t?

We want the freedom that comes with new life in Christ, but are we willing to take the responsibility of crucifying our sinful nature to get it?

Yet, God’s call is clear this Friday. Be crucified with Christ. Put to death the old.

Make no mistake, there are but two requirements for resurrection: the grace of God and death. Let us not forget which part we must play. It is Good Friday. Easter is coming, but first there must be death. But not just Christ’s death, our death.