Tribes

A church historian acquaintance of mine, Dr. Len Sweet, does not like the term “denominations.”  He is on a mission to replace it with the word “tribes.”  “Denomination” is a term that has become divisive and has ironically often evoked exclusionism and unhealthy pride among those whose calling it is to follow and to proclaim the One who humbled Himself and sought “whoever will believe” to come and follow Him (Jesus Christ). 

Dr. Sweet is not against denominations.  Neither am I.  In fact, I am a minister in an established denomination (the Church of the Nazarene), which shares theological roots with many other groups, including Methodists, Anglicans, and even ancient Orthodox churches.  Although my “tribe” is relatively new in terms of Christian history (the Church of the Nazarene was started in the late 19^th Century), the creeds we hold dear, the Scriptures we read (the Bible), and even our dearest practices (baptism and Communion, for instance) date back to the very beginnings of the Christian faith.  The problem that some of the older tribes have with newer tribes like ours often has to do with age: they are older than we are and therefore tend to see their age as making all other denominations (or tribes) irrelevant.

 Now, as a native Texan myself, I was taught to respect my elders.  And, as both a pastor and a trained historical theologian, I can honestly say that I deeply respect and hold in high regard those traditions whose practices date back to the early days of Christianity.  However, the dynamic nature of Christianity, which in the time of the New Testament was simply a “movement”, means that Christianity will continue to “move.”  That means we hold on to those ancient foundations that make us who we are, but we are not afraid of embracing the kind of exponential growth that Christ promised when the movement first began.  In short, that means that other tribes – ones who hold to the same core beliefs and the common creeds of the Church – should not be a threat to us.  

So, why are there so many tribes? There are at least three reasons.  The first reason is often simple geography.  The ancient Orthodox churches and the ancient Catholic churches were simply in different places and developed slightly different emphases and leadership structures.  Even today there are church tribes – new ones as well as older ones – whose theologies are similar to one another but who form out of geographic necessity.  Secondly, there is the issue of reform.  Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant groups are part of the tribal system of Christianity in the world today.  

Protestant groups, many of whom broke away from their older tribal systems (i.e., Catholicism or Orthodox Church) around the 16^th Century, did so largely because of real corruption in certain regions of their parent churches.  Some of the first reformers, like Martin Luther, were indeed Catholic and considered themselves such for a time even after they separated into another tribe.  

Within the last half century, the older tribes have even acknowledged many of their 16^th Century errors and have sought to find ways of re-establishing dialogue and fellowship together!  Several Roman Catholic popes, for instance, have issued statements of apology for those Reformation Era abuses and have attempted reconciliation.

Finally, tribes can launch because of what they perceive to be needed emphases.  If a particular older tribe is not paying enough attention to the poor, for example, a group of like-minded folks who love God and who follow the Christian faith may form a group to minister to the poor more specifically.  For various reasons – or no big reasons at all – these groups may eventually form new denominations (“tribes”). 

In John 17, Jesus prays that His disciples will be “one”: united together.  Like Dr. Len Sweet, I believe that the way this prayer will be answered is not by going around declaring that my particular Christian denomination is the only “true” one.  I also do not agree that every single group that calls itself Christian is indeed a Christian group.  However, the groups that hold onto the essential tenets of the Christian faith expressed in Scripture and in the early Creeds of the first several centuries of Christian history, and who also seek to genuinely worship and serve Jesus Christ, are a genuine Christian tribe.  And that tribe is part of a bigger Kingdom.  And that Kingdom belongs to God.

Symbols

Symbols mean something.  In case you doubt that, think of how many corporations you and I can identify just by their symbols: golden arches, a long-haired green mermaid, and two mouse ears.  These just a few symbols that immediately evoke a response and an identification.  How about these: a swastika, a burning cross, a black panther.  These, too, are powerful symbols that also evoke a response.  What determines the impact of these symbols?  The answer is context: How has the symbol been used?  Who is identified with the symbol?  What actions are associated with the symbol?  Who is viewing the symbol?  These are the kinds of contextual questions that give symbols meaning.

Even in Christian theology, symbols are important.  A cross on the steeple of a church building in a European cathedral make evoke a positive response.  But, take that same symbol, light it on fire, and place in the front yard of minority person in the U.S., and that cross has suddenly become a very different and decidedly negative symbol.  Likewise, place a swastika on a totem pole in ancient Native American culture, and it can evoke a positive sense of history and of culture.  Place upon a red flag with a skinhead or a Nazi soldier in the background, and the symbol becomes dark and even terroristic.

The cross has not always been a lauded symbol, by the way.  No early Christian would have identified the cross as a positive symbol.  It was not until the mid-Fourth Century, a few hundred years after the time of Jesus, that the cross became a key Christian symbol.  It was a negative symbol that was for the most part transformed into a positive one.  The Confederate flag may have started out as a positive, well-intended symbol, at least for some.  But in the last hundred years at least, it has become more and more specifically and intentionally identified with racism, hatred, terrorism, and death.  Those who mourn its loss should not blame those of us (yes, I am a Southerner by birth) who now decry it.  Rather, they should blame those who have cast such a dark shadow over its symbolism and use.

So, there is a sense in which symbols are neutral, but that is a very limited sense.  The fact is that symbols take on the meanings of the persons and actions associated with them. 

In the U.S., the American flag and most state flags evoke a sense of encouragement and even solemnity. When most Americans look at the U.S. flag, we see the faces of family members, some of whom have died in combat, others who have lived out values that we hold dear as good family members, good community members, and as positive role models of what we hope the flag and our nation will represent.  However, we as Americans are keenly aware that even our founders did not always represent the best aspects of what we hope our flag represents.  Thomas Jefferson, who wrote the words, “All men are created equal,” held slaves, and even had an affair with at least one of his slaves.  His words became symbols that transcended his behavior; however, the behavior is a historical fact, and it reminds us that ultimately all symbols fall short of their ideals.  Our own American flag has at times been used by our own government in ways that a majority of Americans would deem unfit.  Yet, there is a broader history that for the most part redeems the value of the American flag, at least for now. 

The controversy regarding the Confederate battle flag has demonstrated that, despite the fact that there are those in the South and elsewhere who emphasize its purported positive values – liberty, states’ rights, independence, close-knit culture, family, etc. – the negative uses of this flag have attached themselves on a broader scale to this symbol.  Therefore, this symbol’s prevailing meaning, because of those who have used it as a symbol for things like segregation, white supremacy, and even terrorist acts, has become negative.  In most circles, this flag’s symbolism has gone the way of the swastika.  In virtually every public instance where integration has been opposed and where racial prejudice has been justified, unfortunately the Confederate battle flag has been the leading symbol.

The governor of South Carolina in the early 1960s flew it to demonstrate his opposition to what he called “federally imposed integration.”  The state of Mississippi has had governors, legislators, and “White Citizens Councils” who have brandished it as their leading symbol, all the while terrorizing African-Americans, Jews, Catholics, and so-called “agitators” of every race who opposed their march toward segregation and white supremacy.  Every KKK meeting place exalts the “stars and bars” on an equal or even higher level than any other symbol, including the cross and the American flag. 

When bombs are thrown or shots are fired in racial hatred – as we saw in Charleston in recent days – the Confederate battle flag is always nearby. 

It is for these reasons that state leaders, both on the Left and on the Right, have begun to say that the use of this symbol has taken on a meaning of its own – a meaning that should not represent any state in the U.S. 

Many of us from the South have always insisted that there are better symbols of what it means to be from a Southern state than a battle flag that was once raised to defend the promulgation of slavery.  For those of us who are Christians, no flag of any nation is to become an idol worth dying for, since our ultimate loyalty lies in the person, work, and values of Jesus Christ.  In Christ’s Kingdom, symbols that are stumbling blocks to love, peace, and valuing others can easily be cast aside if they interfere with the ultimate mission of God.  Whatever I am - Texan, Southerner, American, White, Republican, Democrat, etc. - fades deeply into the background in light of my ultimate allegiance to Jesus Christ and His Kingdom. 

  

Recapturing Our Theological Identity: Beyond Lament

After the Lament

I recently lamented about the lack of theological concern among many in church culture.  I did so in such a way that sought to highlight a twofold problem, as I see it, in church life today: 1) lack of theological pursuit, and 2) lack of concern for theology demonstrated by substituting either pragmatism or politics (or both) for the Christ-centered mission of God through the Church (see my previous blog entry).  Below, I want to give four suggestions, which I call “introductory” or “basic” suggestions, simply because they represent only a small part of a more complex and ongoing solution to the theological malaise of denominations like my own.  I suggest these to remind myself and to be self-critical more than I say them to point out flaws in others.  But I do think they are practical ways to continually move us toward a concern for being part of the mission of God in the world in a way that more adequately reflects the revolutionary elements of the Kingdom of God that Jesus came to proclaim, to live out, and to invite us to. 

Four Basic Suggestions

1. Realize we really are a theological institution.

There are many approaches to church life that can help a church grow and be organized.  Models from business, politics, and the social sciences have at times made helpful contributions to the health of many churches.  However, problems have arisen in regard to our theological depth and our long-term sense of mission when these models overtake and outrank our theological vision.  By theological vision, I mean the sense in which we are rooted in the person and work of Jesus Christ as primary, in such a way that all other ways of being take a back seat to His ways.  So, because we are an institution (an organized group of people) centered around God (theos in the Greek), then we are indeed a “theological institution” before we are any other kind of institution.  Our primary concern is to be about God, God’s ways of doing things (even if they are not as “efficient” as other models), God’s definitions (of things like “success”, for instance), and God’s purposes (i.e., What gives God the most influence?).

2. Do not fear mystery.

There is nothing wrong with being helpful and practical.  There are many helpful, practical things that can be learned in Scripture, and many of those things can be transferred into even secular realms of living.  “Do unto others”, for instance, is a good way of doing business, precisely because it is, as Jesus reminds us, a good way (the best way) to live.  However, when everything in the Bible becomes a neat and tidy self-help, how-to session, we miss out on some of the most challenging and life-changing parts of Scripture.  The reason is that in the times when we, like some of His encounters with the disciples and other hearers in the Gospels, leave on Sundays asking, “What was that all about?” (see Mark 6:20 and Luke 9:7, for instance) it forces us to lean heavily on the Spirit of God and on further exploration of Scripture for clarity.  This does not imply that we should be purposely unclear.  It does mean that we should not feel the urge to make everything fit so comfortably in a 30 minute sermon that people only walk away with ways of living at peace in a world that is alien to the Gospel!  People should leave on Sundays consistently challenged with the mystery of how God can call us as Christians to be so radically different from the world, while at the same time seeking to live in the world (see Jesus’ prayer in John 17).  A valid critique of situation comedies (sit-coms) is that they take the most difficult issues and resolve them in 30 minutes with a laugh and a hug at the end.  Life is not that way.  The Gospel is a lifelong pursuit, and so allowing hearers to wrestle with the mysteries of the text and of the faith is part of our growth as Christians.

3. Have an “aggravation shelf.” 

For years now I have had what I call an “aggravation shelf” in my library.  In fact, it I has since grown to several shelves.  Former students and current church members often ask to see it when I mention it in the classroom or in a message.  It is a shelf filled with books that often challenge me to the point of aggravation: writers who wrestle with the same faith issues I wrestle with, but from a different perspective than mine.  These writers are intelligent and most of them are Christians, yet their perspectives differ in some degree from my own.  By reading them, I am challenged in my faith, and I am forced to continually remove God from the box that I try to keep God in.  Reading these authors all the time would probably be too frustrating, but making myself read these authors consistently has changed my life in a very positive way.  In fact, a few have, in my view, “corrected” my theology in such a profound way that it has drawn me closer to this God I thought I knew.  Some do not even stay on my aggravation shelf, but become regular sources of theological exploration and devotional help.  This kind of engagement in the wrestlings of the larger Body of Christ in the world, as well as engagement with leading non-Christian writers of our day, also keeps me out of my box!  In other words, the challenging words and approaches of others force me to seek God, and not just a smaller “version” of God with which I am comfortable.

4. Fully Commit to God’s Ways Above All Else

At first this seems too broad of a statement, but at its heart is a desire to let the ways of God, expressed in His Son Jesus Christ and led by the Holy Spirit working through the history of God’s people become the primary lens through which I view reality.  Consequently, this lens becomes my key to interpreting, teaching, and seeking to represent Jesus and His mission in the world.  Furthermore, this lens replaces other lenses that I as a Christian leader am tempted to use – often by other church leaders! – in approaching the calling and mission of the Church.  I am often tempted to simply parrot the techniques of prominent business leaders, politicians, or media pundits.  When I refuse to let the lenses of Christ filter these approaches, the Church loses its credibility and prophetic voice.  When I engage these lenses as filters, then I am more likely to engage in the true mission and message of Christ, even when fellow-Christians seem dissatisfied.

Being the Church in Contrast to the World 

The call to be the Church in contrast to the world, according to ethicist and theologian Stanley Hauerwas, is the greatest gift the Church can give to the world.  This call is easily forgotten in times of vast media and political influence upon our culture and upon church leaders.  However, Jesus seems more and more determined to do what He originally set out to do: build His Church (Matthew 16:18).  As Jesus does this, those things that are not essential to the mission of Christ will lose their power and influence, and those who refuse to build His Church His way will become more and more disillusioned, as have many church members and leaders whose goals were different from the goals of Christ.  The greatest concern I have as a pastor is that of passing along to my children and to those around me the life-changing, world-challenging, prophetic nature of the Church that many have died to pass along.  That means that God and God’s ways – theology – must again become the primary concern of those of us who seek to lead as “under-shepherds” of the Great Shepherd of the Church.

When Theology Mattered: A Lament

A Lesson From Ephesus and Nestorius

In a small and relatively peaceful village near the city of Ephesus around 431 A.D., crowds left their meager homes, led by their local priests, and took to the streets.  A nearby Christian teacher had been teaching that the Virgin Mary was the Mother of Christ: that she gave birth to Jesus when she was a virgin (as Scripture attests and as has always been part of orthodox Christian teaching), but Jesus “became the Christ” at His birth, or at least some time later.  In other words, this teacher, who was following the teachings of a key Christian leader named Nestorius, was saying that while Mary was the mother of Jesus, she should not be called “Mother of God”, since Jesus was not always God; rather, He became infused with divinity after His birth.  This nuance seemed too small for the increasingly popular Nestorius and his disciples to bother with.  After all, they were “close” in regard to their formulation of doctrine. 

This teaching was so offensive, even to the largely uneducated laity around Ephesus, they took to the streets in protest shouting, “Blessed Mary, Mother of God!  Blessed Mary, Mother of God!” This protest became widespread until the Christian teacher spouting Nestorianism (as it came to be known) left the village.  This protest was in affirmation of the Council of Ephesus in 431 AD, which decried Nestorianism as heresy – against official biblical and Church teachings.  The people of Ephesus, though largely lacking in formal education and literacy, would not compromise their faith and shouted loud enough to clearly proclaim what continues to be official Church teaching: Mary should be called “Mother of God,” not because she is divine, but because Jesus was from eternity fully God, as well as fully human.

Theology Once Mattered

As a historical theologian and a pastor, I guess one would suspect I would enjoy this story, which I read in a work of a Catholic historian several years ago. 

We still protest things these days, and often they are very important things.  But in our American church culture, including my own denomination, concerns about theological issues, including the radical nature of Jesus’ own teachings, sometimes take a backseat to other things.  In fact, theological foundations are often not even invited along for the ride! 

I do not think we should walk around as doctrine police, attacking those whose doctrine does not exactly match ours.  Too often Medieval Christianity did this, even to the point of fighting bloody battles, and Christianity has reaped the sad consequences of this kind of dogmatism.

However, I confess that I do miss the days when theology really mattered to Christians.  

Did you know that some of the best-selling books of previous centuries were books on theology?  The earliest days of the printing press saw mass production of sermons by great Christian leaders, including Martin Luther and John Calvin.  Christianity in eighteenth century exploded with even secular leaders providing preaching and writing opportunities for theologians and preachers, like Jonathan Edwards, John Wesley, and George Whitefield.  Newspapers printed theological debates between the likes of these ministers and theologians!

The late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries boasted books from the likes of Paul Tillich and Dietrich Bonhoeffer (theologians who opposed Nazism and set forth key works of theological discussion), as well as a plethora of Catholic and even Evangelical theologians whose works were taken seriously by religious scholars, religious people in the pews, and even secular media.  Writers like R.A. Torrey, Carl Henry, Jurgen Moltmann, Reinhold Niehbuhr, and Karl Barth, whose works often targeted academic and clergy audiences, often found their way into bookstores and mainstream conversations among non-clergy and non-academics of all backgrounds.  Even as recently as the 1960s and 1970s, religious works by the likes of Harvey Cox, Martin Luther King, C.S. Lewis, Francis Schaeffer, and Catholic writers like Hans Kung could be mentioned in sermons and in discussions in many Christian settings with at least some recognition. 

Sadly, those kinds of writings and discussions have been largely cast aside outside of ever-decreasing academic circles.  They have been replaced by (Christian) self-help gurus, popular TV preachers, and even business and money management writers from outside of the Christian faith.  These are the books we are largely discussing today, and so, when theological issues arise, our first questions are questions of popularity and politics and not of theology.

Fruitful Sadness

This is a lament: a sad reflection on a sad situation.  Therefore, at the moment, I can offer very few suggestions in regard to actual solutions.  My hope is that when enough people get sad or even angry at the situation as it is, more people and groups will take it upon themselves to intentionally seek change.

The problem, which I contend is indeed a problem, is not that we no longer take to the streets when someone within our own Christian fold misstates or misrepresents basic Christian doctrine.  Rather, the problem is that we usually do not even know when Christian doctrine has been misrepresented or misstated.  We only know what popular opinion or the most listened to political gurus have to say, and we follow blindly.

Our churches tend to be governed by marketing principles more than doctrinal boundaries.  Our universities, meaning Christian universities, tend to be governed by the loudest donor voices (which take their cues from the same political gurus or pop culture preachers), instead of the doctrinal foundations upon which they were established.  Agree with the loudest voices, regardless of your doctrine, and you will have a strong hearing and following in today’s Christian circles.  And your “fruitfulness” (i.e., your ability to garner a following) will be rewarded.

Give the most money, and your way will often be heeded, regardless of the nuances of its doctrinal content.  It is no longer common for words such as “heresy” to even be in fashion, and when it is used, it is often misused or used for political gain, not for spiritual enlightenment.  Many popular movements within Christianity were once opposed, simply because they were doctrinally unsound.

Poor Nestorius: He was born much too early.

   

Truth 101: Something Both Told and Lived

What is truth? ~ Pontius Pilate in John 18:38

Just Answer Truthfully!

It seems that there has always been confusion about “the truth.”  People insist that the truth exists.  One old television show insisted that “the truth is out there.”  In court, we take an oath to tell the truth, as if to say, “I promise that I am telling the truth when I tell you that I will tell the truth!”  Jesus was even asked the question, “What is truth?”  He was asked not by a philosopher or a theologian, but by a politician! Ironic, isn’t it?  But it really happened that way.  Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of the province of Israel, pulled Jesus aside after Jesus was arrested and brought to Pilate to be sentenced to death.  Pilate, after several questions, asked: “What is truth?” (John 18:38)

Jesus, in this scene, had just affirmed Pilate’s previous question, which was: “So, you are a king, then?” (Remember, Jesus was charged with sedition and blasphemy for allegedly claiming to be “King of the Jews.”).  Jesus’ response to Pilate: “What you say is true.  Everyone who is on the side of truth listens to me” (John 18:37). 

Pilate becomes confused, it seems, since he basically admits in the very next verse that he himself is struggling as to what the truth really is!  He is not alone.  And he is certainly not the first politician to suffer from this kind of confusion.  In fairness, even preacher types wrestle with this from time to time: What really is the truth?

Not Just a Set of Facts

Jesus helps us with this all the time.  The answer to what real truth is will not be found in endless philosophical games or debates, although debates surely have their place.  It is just that in debates, the “truth” is not always the winner. This includes court cases as well.  The winner in such matters is usually the one who is the most convincing.  Jesus experienced this a bit later in the above narrative when the crowd (many of whom had been paid off by the ones who arrested him) yelled “Crucify him!”  They were the loudest, Pilate did not have strong enough interest in the real truth, and Pilate gave in.  The winners of the case, we now know, were not the most truthful voices. 

So, this business of finding the truth can be more complicated than it first appears.  Facts get exchanged, spun toward a particular side, and are interpreted as either the truth or not the truth.  Facts matter, but only if they are facts that are not shaped by a one-sided, self-centered agenda.  To echo Pilate, then: What is truth, anyway?  Jesus’ own words can help us with this.

A Few True Things About Truth

First, truth centers on Jesus: His words and His ways.  Jesus says so Himself: “All who are on the side of truth listen to me.”  That is to say, all who have any interest in the truth listen and look to Jesus.  For Christians, this first step may go something like this: 

• Is what I am saying the kind of representation that Jesus would give of this situation?  
• Are my interpretations and attitude in line with Jesus’ approach to these things?  
• If not, then something is missing: most likely it is the “whole truth” that is missing (or at least part of the truth!). 

More specifically, is my reporting of the facts in harmony not only with the way in which Jesus would see them, but also shared in the same manner as Jesus?  What is His manner?  The Bible indicates that the manner of Jesus in all things is centered in love.  No wonder the Apostle Paul later writes that we are to “speak the truth in love,” so that we may “in all things grow into the maturity of Christ” (Ephesians 4:15). 

What Does That Really Mean?

It seems that based upon these two things – the manner and character of Christ (this whole "speaking the truth in love" approach– that I can simply share facts in a clouded, self-centered, or mean-spirited way and still miss the truth, if I am not interested in the most loving and Christ-like result.  And it seems that if I am claiming to love but I am leaving out key facts (the way those who arrested Jesus did, and the way false witnesses or spin doctors always do), then I am also missing the truth: the whole truth: the truth centered in the person and work of Jesus Himself. 

I am tired of the saturation of half-truths, which according to the Bible’s definition, really are not truths at all. 

When a person is in recovery from addiction, he or she must, according to the best counselors and researchers, take what the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous call a “fearless moral inventory.”  That means they must fearlessly yet lovingly start telling the truth about themselves, their choices, key events in their lives, and even their weaknesses.  Only then can there be any progress toward healing.

Not as Cold and Hard After All

There’s an old George Jones song that is aptly titled. The singer represents a voice that is confronting a man who has betrayed one he loves (it’s a country song… what did you expect?).  The words of the voice of confrontation go like this:

You don’t know who I am / But I know all about you;
I’ve come to talk to you tonight/ About the things I’ve seen you do;
I’ve come to set the record straight/ I’ve come to shine the light on you;
Let me introduce myself / I am the cold, hard truth. (Songwriter: Jamie O’hara)

The thing that scares people about the truth is that when we have hardened ourselves with lies and self-centeredness and the truth confronts us, it seems cold and hard.  It is quite humbling and sometimes even downright embarrassing to face the truth.  But the One who is the truth is not trying to be cold and hard at all.  Instead, He is seeking to make our lives a place where the truth – the love of Christ, the manner of Christ – is free to live. 

This freedom begins with a willingness to ask the question that Pilate asked: What is truth?  But it only comes to full fruition when we, unlike Pilate, are willing to allow the truth to cut away the self-centeredness that stands in the way of the full Truth – the person and work of Christ – to shine through our words and our actions.  The cold, hard truth is that we need more of this loving, transformative truth in all areas of our church and of our world.

Two Lessons From the Cross

The Cross: Separating Followers From Admirers

I recently read about an encounter that the great civil rights leader and Baptist preacher Clarence Jordan (a white man from Georgia who started an integrated Christian community) once had with his own brother.  Jordan’s brother was then a lawyer, who would later become a justice in the Georgia Supreme Court.  Clarence asked his brother to represent his racially integrated community as their attorney.  Clarence’s brother refused.  “Didn’t we agree to follow Jesus when we made our commitments to Christ?” Clarence asked his brother.  “Yes, but I follow Jesus up to a point,” Clarence’s brother replied.

“Is that point up to the cross?” Clarence asked.

“Yes,” his brother said.  “I will go to the cross, but I’m not about to get myself crucified!”

“Then,” Clarence replied sadly to his brother, “you are not a true disciple.  You are an admirer of Jesus, but not a disciple.”  [Thanks to Matt Friedman for this story]. 

The cross of Jesus is truly the crossroad of the entire Christian faith.  It is the benchmark of what it means to follow Jesus with one’s whole life.  Jesus’ admonition to His disciples about what it means to be a true Christian – Christ follower – is to “take up your cross and follow me.”  These words gained more impact as they observed Jesus suffering and dying on that first Good Friday.  The disciples watched as their Lord and Teacher literally took up the cross and obeyed God to the fullest extent, forgoing comforts and praise in order to demonstrate the extent of the love of God.  Clarence Jordan was right in his assessment.  Admirers stand at a distance and say, “I am glad Jesus did that.”  Followers are those who say, “Because Jesus did this, I do not have to fear even if it means sacrificing my own reputation, my own comfort, or my very life for the sake of the good news of Jesus.” 

This brings us to the two key lessons of the cross.  The cross is more than just a place where Jesus took our place.  It is a demonstration of the power of God’s promise to love and an illustration of what Jesus was trying to teach on that first Maundy Thursday (John 13): loving us to the very end and beyond

Lesson One: How Dark Sin Is

Good Friday services are generally somber, reflective and dark – literally dark.  Crosses are covered in black cloth.  Lights are low.  We recapture the mood as best we can of the night when the holy, loving, and righteous Son of God allowed Himself to be put to death unjustly so that the love of God can be seen.  And as we gaze at the full extent of the love of God in the death of One who is willing to be put to death unjustly due to His commitment to love and peace, we simultaneously see how dark sin can get.  How depraved can we be?  The answer as we “survey the wondrous cross,” to use the words of hymn writer Isaac Watts, is almost too much to bear.  No wonder the same hymn writer notes that as we observe the cross, our “richest gain becomes but loss,” and we “pour contempt on all our pride.”  Why?  Because any pride I had in my own goodness is called into question when I realize someone just like me – too much like me for comfort – did THAT to the holy, perfect, loving Son of God who was sent to bring me into God’s family. 

The cross is a dark place.  It is a reminder of how far we can go down the path of sin and death.  It is so tempting to look at the cross from a distance instead of taking up the cross, honestly bearing the reality of the depth of sin in my own life.  It is easy to see the cross in hindsight and not as a present reality for all of us. 

But there is light even in the dark shadows of the cross. 

Lesson Two: How Far God Will Go

Is there a “bridge too far” for God?  Is there a limit to His love?  I often hear people who wish to remind us that even though God is loving, we are not to forget that He is also a “righteous judge” and is a “God of wrath.” 

I think this kind of thinking misses the point and also looks at the cross from a distance.  The cross does demonstrate our sin, but it does so in light of the great love of God.  In the act of sacrificing His own life, Jesus exposes sin.  He does not do so, then, in harsh and punitive judgement, but in submissive love. If God were simply about wrath, then our first response would be defensive.  But God’s response to sin is sacrificial love, which catches us off guard.  Look how far God will go to show you the way to Himself, the cross cries out.  See how much God loves us, the cross reminds.  “How deep the Father’s love for us; How vast beyond all measure,” another hymn writer reminds.  This, too, is seen in the cross of Jesus. 

Putting the Lessons Together

These two lessons – the depth of sin and the heights of God’s love – are always working in tandem in the lives of those who “take up the cross” of Jesus Christ and become His disciples (not just admirers).  In the shadow of the cross, I am constantly reminded that my journey is to be one of humility.  My sin is part of the story of how the perfect and holy Son of God ended up there.  It could just as well have been me driving the nails.  When I embrace sin, I am indeed capable of such things, and so are we all! 

At the same time, the cross reminds me that as I walk in humility, I need not fear that I will be asked to “love too much” or to go too far in loving and serving others.  Jesus Himself has already gone the distance.  He has already gone as far as it is possible to God, and He bids me to follow Him there!  Therefore, all of my actions, attitudes, and interactions with all of the voices around me are filtered through the cross.  Is this attitude or action bathed in the humility that recognizes that sin runs deep in me and in all of us?  Is this attitude or action placing unworthy limits on the love of God that can be expressed through me because of the cross and the empty tomb of Jesus?  That, and not less than that, is taking up the cross.  May God help us.

Reflecting on Selma, and What I Would Like to Think

Beyond Nostalgia and Idealism

It has been fifty years since Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., let the freedom march in Selma, Alabama, protesting the conditions of African-Americans.  The protest was about both racial and economic justice, and thousands of Americans of all races joined the historic march.  Four even lost their lives before, during, and after this important event.  The cause of the loss, according to Dr. King, was not just the bullets and attacks of state troopers, angry townspeople, or other officials.  Rather, according to Dr. King, it was the “silence of every white minister of the Gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of his stained glass window.”  He later noted the bravery of at least one white minister, a Unitarian minister, who also became a martyr for the cause of civil rights during the time of the Selma march.  People like me who were not yet born during the march (I am in my mid-40s) tend to look back at these events with a sense of nostalgia and idealism.  The nostalgia aspect of our hindsight tends to overlook the hard work, the sacrifice, and the messiness of this brave display of solidarity regarding the plight of poor people and minorities in America. 

The idealism aspect of our hindsight often causes us to see these marches as solutions rather than part of a bigger picture.  By this I mean, we are tempted to say, “Well, thankfully they had that Selma march where thousands gathered and cleared up all of that racism once and for all.”  A further aspect of our idealism involves projecting ourselves back into the scene.  By this I mean we are tempted to say, “If I had been there, I would have been proud to stand with Dr. King and oppose the ignorant racism of that day.”  It is this bit of hindsight that makes me the most uncomfortable, simply because it is indeed what I would like to think.  I would like to think that I would be part of the solution, not the problem.  I would like to think that I, like others of my race (I am Caucasian) would have marched proudly and boldly with Dr. King and the other marchers if I were around 50 years ago.  I would like to think that I, unlike many Protestant Evangelical ministers of Dr. King’s day, would have had hard conversations with my church members, with community leaders, and with others in my sphere of influence to try and persuade them of the nobility of standing up for the value of all human beings, as those created in the image of God. 

Beyond Wishing and Thinking

I would like to think this would be true.  I would like to think that the men and women of my community and of my congregation, which is a predominately white community and congregation, would love Jesus enough not to let any other influences stop them from standing for what is right instead of what is popular or accepted in the culture.  And by this I do not mean the politically correct “liberal” culture.  Instead I mean the politically correct conservative culture.  I believe each “side” of the political spectrum has its own brand of political correctness, and when a spokesperson from either side transgresses these politically correct boundaries, there is often a high price to pay.  I would like to think that I would have been intentional about my association with those causes and groups that support the value of all people.  I would like to think I would be intentional about confronting those ideas and personalities that would degrade others for the sake of political expedience or popularity in certain circles.  I would like to think that. I am still thinking.

It just so happens that many of the same problems are around that were around 50 years ago.  Some of the faces and complexions have changed; some have stayed the same.  Some of the voices are more subtle and not as blatant as they were 50 years ago in Alabama.  I do believe that the issues of social justice, of valuing others as created in the image of God, of fair treatment, and of economic empowerment are key issues, dear to the heart of the God I serve. 

Based upon the history of the Civil Rights Movement, I belong to a group (American Evangelicals) who have leaders who have made key contributions to civil rights, but as a group have probably said the least about civil rights and economic empowerment of any key religious group in America.  Indeed, the group I am part of – white American Evangelicals – have often been on what some historians would call “the wrong side of history” in regard to civil rights. 

Therefore, I would like to think that, given my awareness of this, I would do something and say something that reminds those around me (especially in my own spheres of influence) that bears witness to the compassion, love, and justice of God.  I am still thinking.  God help me to start doing, and to do more and more as I empowered by the grace of God, whose universe (in the words of Dr. King) bends toward justice.  God help me.  God help us all.