Gifts In A Time of Pandemics: Pain

I have heard recovering addicts say, “When the pain got bad enough, I reached out for help.”

Pain is a gift. We are glad we have it when we have touched a hot stove and it has us quickly remove our hand. Pain has us seek help; it gets us to a doctor. Emotional pain alerts us to the effects of actions we have taken that are destructive to our well-being. It tells us it is time to make a change. Emotional pain also alerts us to the effects of others’ actions that are hurtful to our well-being. Such pain may have us make decisions to disengage from situations and people for the sake of our health or to engage in a manner that retains our humanity, sense of self, and purpose.

We are in the midst of a coronavirus pandemic that is causing pain. We also continue to experience a pandemic with a much longer history, spanning the existence of our nation: the pandemic of racism and white supremacy. In the wake of the killing of George Floyd, African Americans, in great numbers, along with allies, are sharing their pain, not only of this one instance of racist action but the accumulated pain of layer upon layer of injustices. They have brought their pain into the streets and into white spaces. They have placed it before a nation. The sharing of their pain is a gift—especially to those of us who are white. We need to feel their pain or, if not, feel the pain of disruption, of no more business as usual. We may be pressed into making changes.

Gifts, of course, are meant to be received. But they first must be recognized as a gift. For addicts, pain is not readily recognized as a gift. It is often another reason to self-medicate, to cover up the pain—until it gets bad enough. Elsewhere in posts of this blog, I have referred to racism as an addiction. It fits the many aspects of addictive behavior. What does it take for those of us, who are white, to acknowledge our racism and to acknowledge the effects of that racism on the criminal justice system? What does it take to acknowledge the deep disparities in the way the system operates in relation to people of color over against those who receive “privileges” because of their white skin?

The coronavirus pandemic has highlighted the racial disparities in our nation. The protests in our streets are highlighting the systemic racism that is the foundation of these disparities. Both the coronavirus and the virus of racism bring pain. That pain will move out to every sector of our society. After all, in one way or another, we are all connected. There is no place to hide.

How great does the pain have to be for us to change? How long will we encounter the pain of others and turn away? How long will we support the disparities and injustices? What will it take before those of us who are white acknowledge that it is our racism that has built and maintained unjust policies and institutions and that it is racism that allows us to leave unaddressed the injustices? Racism and the history of white supremacy have built the unjust criminal justice system that we have today. We, who acknowledge this, have to be a part of dismantling it and rebuilding a just way of operating. And we will have to be vigilant to keep building toward justice.

Like all addictions, racism denies there is a problem or that the problem is that bad—until the denial is acknowledged to be a symptom of the addiction. The pain of our addiction and what our addiction produces calls for change. The Spirit is in that call for change. It is a call to repent.

Repentance is simply a turning from the direction we have been going so that we now walk in a way of healing and liberation and new life. It is a spiritual act because the Spirit of God is present to help us. The only true repentance, understood spiritually, is from death to life, from spiritual death (the loss of love) to the One who is Life Itself, to the Love that frees us.

Filed under: Racism, SufferingTagged with: , ,

“I Can’t Breathe”

“The opposite of ‘racist’ isn’t ‘not racist.’ It is ‘antiracist.’

Ibram X. Kendi, How To Be An Antiracist

George Floyd, a black man, his arms handcuffed behind him, cries out for help with the words, “I can’t breathe,” as a white police officer presses a knee down upon his neck. There are three other officers at the scene. They all hear the cry for help. Bystanders hear and call out for the police officers to help: The man is down and handcuffed; how much more brutality is necessary to demonstrate your power? All of the officers, who are called to “serve and protect,” ignore the pleas. George Floyd dies.

There are many steps before murder: many attitudes, fears, prejudices, demeaning actions, and unjust behaviors. Some talk about a white supremacist police culture, but this kind of police culture flows out of a wider American white supremacist culture.

Often, in the media, white supremacists are depicted as an ideological minority. But white supremacy is an inherent ingredient in the narrative of this nation. The history of the United States is a history of white supremacy in the form of white law-making and actions that created and maintained the institution of slavery, Jim Crow, lynchings, the present mass incarceration of people of color, voter suppression, and continued support for inequities in education, health care, jobs, wealth, and power—if not supported actively, certainly by white apathy toward these injustices.

White supremacy must not be seen merely as the ideology of a few. Those of us who are white do not need to have a developed supremacist philosophy to have attitudes, tendencies, and views that keep us from truly understanding and addressing the injustices in our society. White sense of entitlement, along with denial of our racism, allows us to ignore the voices and experiences of people of color.

White supremacy involves us in viewing white ways and culture as the norm and standard by which we judge others. This all happens, of course, implicitly and in an unacknowledged manner. But it allows us to form views without listening as if all we need are the “answers” that our biases and fears provide. We simply draw from what we already think. Where and how our thoughts are formed goes unexamined.

Every aspect of racism, whether blatant or subtle, minimizes the humanity of another human being. There is a link between the apathy that ignores injustices and police officers who act with brazen disregard for the life of a fellow human being. The distance between the two is not so very great.

When we realize this, we are approaching the first step of the Twelve Step Program for Addicts (racism being very similar to an addiction). Step one requires us to come out of denial: We admit our racism and powerlessness and that this way of living has become unmanageable. The acknowledgment of unmanageability means we are recognizing the massive scale of the problem: the deep entrenchment of racism. We feel our inadequacy and realize we need power to change. We need spiritual liberation. We need step three: “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand God.” We need to be raised up into a higher reality—into the One in whom “we live and move and have our being.” We need to be freed into our true selves that have their source in God.

With the confession of our brokenness and a spiritual turning (repentance) and the grace that brings liberation (steps 1-3), we are released into action. In this spiritual journey, there are further steps that involve a “moral inventory” of our lives. We become involved in inner work, the Spirit helping us to acknowledge the intentions, motivations, and attitudes of our hearts, and the actions that flow from them. We are helped by words of truth that come to us from others and from their experiences. We listen to others, and the Spirit of truth helps us to receive truth.

There are also steps for “making amends,” that is, making right what is wrong. These steps have us moving outward. We become intentional about addressing racism not only in our own lives but in the institutions, laws, and structures of our society. We work for radical change and reform—the reformation of the criminal justice system, the removal of voter suppression laws, and the dismantling of discrimination and inequities of all kinds. We are becoming antiracist. The defensive “I am not a racist” does not work for us anymore. Our focus is outward on understanding the nature and extent of this social disease and equipping ourselves to fight against it.

Formerly, we were not seeking to understand and gain knowledge and wisdom for action—not about racism and white supremacy. But now that we are on a journey of openness and action, we are seeking—and finding. In our seeking, we reach out to others who have a history of being antiracist. We are being liberated into community antiracist action. Together we become agents of change. Or, as Jesus puts it, “salt and light.”

Are you on the journey? If not, this blog post is an invitation.

Filed under: Justice, Racism, Spirituality, WitnessTagged with: ,

Gifts in a Time of Pandemic: The Freedom of Love

Consider two different responses to the pandemic:

  1. A group of people protests in front of a state capital building, some carrying assault weapons providing an image of threat and intimidation. They are protesting the infringement on their “freedom.” Social distancing orders have deeply affected their lives, their freedom of movement, and, for many, their employment. They have framed their losses as bondage.
  2. An elderly man is given a ventilator by people who love him, in a nation where there are not enough ventilators for all who need them. A band of people has found a way to pay for and obtain a ventilator for this man they love. It is a gift to him. He receives it and then gives it away to a young man who also needs a ventilator. He then succumbs to the COVID-19 virus.

Which of these two responses to the pandemic is an expression of freedom? Is freedom found in my ability to do what I want (do my thing) even when it infringes upon the lives of others, disregards their ability to live? Or, is freedom found in the ability to freely give up my life for the life of another?

Freedom is often expressed in terms of our ability to do what we want. But, as theologian Karl Rahner expressed in one of his essays, there are spheres of freedom. When it comes to our freedom of choice, one person’s sphere of choice is larger or smaller than another. Our spheres of freedom impinge on or affect the freedom of others. One person’s sphere of freedom can diminish another’s. Historically, the “privileges” given to white people by racism have limited the choices available to black people (choices regarding schools, vocations, health care, freedom from violence, etc.). The present economic disparities in our nation depict different spheres of freedom to make various choices. Those who are wealthy have many more choices for escaping the effects of the coronavirus than those who are poor.

The only thing that truly begins to address the disparities and injustices is the freedom that is love. Martin Luther King, Jr, understood this with great clarity: “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.” This is true because love enters into the sphere of the other, even when that may mean diminishing one’s own sphere of choices. The elderly man, in giving up his ventilator, narrowed his choices. Again, Martin Luther King: “Love is the active outpouring of one’s whole being into the being of another.”

Love may have us narrowing our choices, but it also may have us expanding them. Love calls people beyond the limitations placed on them by others. It has us pressing forward, expanding our sphere in order to live out our calling in the compassionate use of our gifts in relation to others.

Whether our choices narrow or expand, love freely gives itself. It is the reality that cannot be coerced. We cannot make another person love us and we cannot keep another person from loving us. Even our evil actions against another cannot undo love, for love forgives. (Jesus from the cross: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”) Love, compassion, mercy, justice (making right what is wrong), bring true life-giving change and liberation.

The pandemic that we are enduring calls out for compassion and love. The disparities, along with leadership that ignores the poor and props up Wall Street, cry out for radical acts of love. When we see people answering this call, we see them freely giving themselves for the sake of others. Their actions heal and restore, do justice and liberate. We see genuine human freedom in these acts.

Regarding the two responses to the pandemic that I began with, each has a different feel to it. The first feels like the bondage of self-absorption. It does not feel like freedom to show up with weapons to demand that you get your way even at the cost of others’ well-being. The second feels like freedom, the freedom of giving oneself, one’s life, for another.

The opportunities to love are always there. But, in this time of a pandemic and the new situations it has created, it may be that the call to love—to the freedom that is love—is more easily distinguished from other voices. A gift is being offered to us: the call to love. Therefore, paraphrasing Jesus, “Let those who have ears to hear, let them hear and obey the call.”

Filed under: Grace, Love, SpiritualityTagged with: , , ,

Gifts in a Time of Pandemic: Darkness

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping

Paul Simon

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

Psalm 139:11-12

God is present in the light and the darkness. In joy and sorrow. In success and failure. In gladness and affliction. God is in the darkness and darkened future of the present pandemic.

This year, I started growing plants for my vegetable garden from seeds. I had the opportunity to observe what many others have known: Seedlings grow faster at night. They capture the energy of the sun during the day and much of their growth happens in darkness. I am considering this as a metaphor for our growth into our true humanity. Growth often happens in the darkness and in the midst of trials.

The psalmist says, “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5) Our lives include both night and morning, weeping and joy. Both darkness and light are necessary. God is in both.

I recall entering a time of trial and darkness. Because of previous experience, I was desirous of receiving what God had to give me through what I was enduring. When I came out of that period of struggle, I had mixed emotions, wondering if I had received everything from it that was meant for me. (Likely not, but I was grateful for what I did receive.)

Some trials are personal, some communal. We are presently enduring a global pandemic. It is a dark night that we share with others—although not all in the same way. Those who have lost loved ones to the virus experience the darkness acutely. Health workers on the front lines experience the depth of this pandemic in ways that most of us escape. And there are great societal disparities in the way this pandemic is experienced.

There are pandemics in the midst of pandemics. The pandemic of racism has a long history that continues alongside the coronavirus pandemic. The recent shooting death of a young black jogger by two white men (who were not charged until a video surfaced two months later) is a manifestation of this brutal pandemic—as are the historic inequities that are exacerbated by the virus. One pandemic affects the other. Will the darkness of the one help us to enter, in some manner, the darkness of the other? Because of the great unevenness of this virus’ impact, mainline news has had more to say about disparities than we are used to hearing. Will we stay with the hearing and go deeper?

The COVID-19 pandemic may be heightening our awareness—as the darkness often does. If we are open, we may no longer be able to ignore these other pandemics. We may gain hearts that move us to do justice and love mercy. We may find ourselves working to overcome the divisions that we have erected. We may receive an elevated sense of community that calls us to action, as we share with others during this pandemic.

In the darkness of this pandemic, there is great potential for change and growth. In the darkness, we may become more self-aware and engaged in inner work, acknowledging our false attachments, motivations, and attitudes. In the quietness of the night, we may wonder about our purpose. What is our true calling? What is truly essential for our growth as human beings? In the darkness, we become still and wait. We become open and receptive. In the darkness, we let go of trying to secure ourselves and, in letting go, we gain our true humanity made in the image of God.

God is in the darkness as well as in the light. We find God there if we do not attempt to fill the darkness with something foreign to it: binge-watching videos or drowning ourselves in social media or dulling our fears and insecurities with various addictions. And yet, even our addictions may play a part. Their enchainment may bring us to our knees and have us crying out to God for deliverance. When that happens, we have allowed ourselves to enter the darkness to receive its gift: The gift of growth and change and greater awareness of our need and the needs of others and the sharing of ourselves in the building of true community.

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Gifts in a Time of Pandemic

The very depth of emotion, the connecting to the core of one’s being, the calling into play one’s strongest feelings and abilities, can be rich, even on deathbeds, in wars and emergencies, while what is often assumed to be the circumstance of happiness sometimes is only insulation from the depths, or so the plagues of ennui and angst among the comfortable suggest.

Rebecca Solnit, “A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster”

Rebecca Solnit examines catastrophes such as the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina for the extraordinary experiences of community, sharing, and deep compassion. She gives expression to the hurt and suffering as well as the actions, often by those in authority, that make matters worse in the crisis. Her focus, however, is on human beings shining with the beauty of humanity in the midst of great trials.

We see this humanity played out today in the many concrete acts of compassion in the midst of the pandemic. Relationships often take on a deeper significance, not only relationships to those near and dear, but to neighbors and strangers. There is the sense that we are going through this together. Often it is very simple experiences that are deepened in their significance for our lives. Recently, on a pleasant weather day, neighbors came out of their back doors to enjoy the sun. We immediately greeted one another across two fences and entered into conversation. My neighbor two doors down shared how wonderful it was, in the midst of our “staying in place,” to find each other outside at the same moment and be able to share with one another.

We experience a deeper appreciation for neighbors and for those who deliver our mail, pick up our garbage, and work in our grocery stores. In addition to the health care workers on the front lines of combating this virus, we are recognizing other “essential workers:” bus drivers, farmworkers, food processors, first responders of all kinds, delivery people, maintenance people, home health aides. Some, like the last in this list, often receive less than a living wage. Many essential workers are undocumented. Will our recognition of the essential nature of their work bring about a societal change that ensures a living wage, health care for all, and a path to legalization for the millions of undocumented workers? Can we acknowledge that every one of us is “essential” and are to be loved?

We are given an opportunity, during this time of COVID-19, to reflect on the inequalities that are present and on the kind of society we want to have. The crisis this virus has created shines a light on the inequities. The statistics that show a much larger percentage of deaths in communities of color are a reminder of what has historically been the reality: The state of health, in these communities, is an outcome of years of inequities in the provision of health care, in the existence of food deserts, underfunded education, and diminished job opportunities. What this pandemic reveals to us about these injustices, we must not ignore. Deepened understanding is a gift, as is the call to work toward the kind of change that comes from doing justice and loving mercy. Will we receive these gifts?

There is much we can receive as we go through this time of pandemic, gifts that will change our lives. Saint Paul encourages us to make the most of the time: “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time.” There is something to receive during this time for the upbuilding and renewal of community. Therefore, we must make the most of this time, so that we receive the gifts given for the recreating of our relationships and society.

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A Pandemic Reminder: The World Is One

If we have ignored this reality, the present pandemic is a reminder: the world is one. A virus that began in Wuhan, China, is now global. It will increasingly effect every part of our global community. We are all in this together. What has been moving rapidly across the northern hemisphere will do the same in the southern hemisphere. What we have shared with those to the south will come back to the north from the south. It will move in every direction finding many various ways to spread.

Of course, this virus that knows no boundaries does not make us interconnected; it makes it harder to ignore our interconnection. We are one world, no matter how many boundaries or barriers we erect: physical, social, national, ethnic, class, etc. We affect one another across boundaries and by means of the barriers we erect: the wealthy here, the poor over there.

Those who are poorest among us, having the fewest resources, will experience greater devastation from this virus—the result of the inequality we have built within our nations and the global community. The poor do not simply choose to be poor. Poverty is produced by greed, racism, nationalism, fear; by the loss of love and compassion. As Augustine said, “The superfluities of the rich are the necessities of the poor.” We cause the divisions and breakdown of our one world. And yet the reality of the one human race is primary. We are one world. The coronavirus is a reminder. It touches us all.

This virus is expected to grow much more rapidly among poorer communities across the world. Consequently, it will be kept alive and pervasive longer because of the barriers we have erected and the oneness we have ignored. We are one world and one human family, but we have acted like we were adversaries in a quest to carve up this globe into kingdoms of wealth and power. Never mind the losers.

It is clear that if we, as a global community, were to address the needs of the hungry and poor among us, especially by addressing the systemic ways of operating that have produced inequities, we would break down barriers to the one world that we inescapably are. It may be that the reality of this pandemic forces us to make changes. After all, we are all helped when the necessities for healthy communities are available to all. The deeper change, however, comes with a change of heart, a movement toward love and compassion.

On this Maundy Thursday, Christians remember and reenact the last meal Jesus had with his followers. We share in a meal at which Jesus is the host. Jesus gathers us from every corner of the global community. The barriers of class, race, nation, and gender are removed. As Paul writes, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” Followers of Jesus are to be witnesses to this reality—witnesses to the true humanity to which all are called, a humanity made in the image of the God who is love.

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Anxiety and the Coronavirus

It is hard to tell ourselves or others not to worry. Our lives are being upended by a virus. The whole of our society and the global community is in combat mode directed to this invisible attack. Growing numbers are contracting this virus. Health workers do not have all the equipment they need; there is fear that the health system will be overwhelmed. Businesses are shut down, many are out of work, schools are closed, travel is halted, and we are being directed to distance ourselves from one another. And we do not know how long this “new normal” will last. So very much is out of our control. Of course, each of us can take steps to help in this situation, but we are also dependent on the steps others take—including our leaders. Anxiety is a natural and even necessary response. Fear gets us responding to situations that need quick action. It got our attention to the realities of the present crisis so that we would act. And yet anxiety can undo us. Fear can overcome and immobilize us. So, how can we tell ourselves not to worry?

For followers of Jesus and others who are open, that is exactly what Jesus tells us: “Do not worry.” With these words, Jesus calls us from fear to faith and assumes that it is possible to trust rather than be taken over by, and act from, anxiety. With this directive to not worry, Jesus expresses the possibility of our taking steps away from anxiety. Here is the passage: Matthew 6:25-34. Here are the first two verses of that passage:

I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

The reality that makes possible the movement away from anxiety is that God cares for us. When Jesus says to us, “Do not worry,” he is calling us away from the anxiety that would direct our lives, to a trust in God in whom “we live and move and have our being.” He assumes that the empowering Spirit of God will help us to turn from being driven by anxiety, to the care and direction of God.

Jesus also describes the alternative to anxiety: “But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Make the focus of your life, God’s reign, God’s ways of governing, and God’s will. Anxiety, when it directs what we do (rather than merely telling us to act fast), will have us losing our humanity and purpose. Anxiety tempts us to believe it is all up to us. It will make us feel that everything is urgent all at once, and it will have us getting frantic and acting rash. Trusting in the One who holds our lives together frees us for action—for compassionate, life-giving action.

The movement from anxiety to liberated action happens in the relinquishing of our lives to God and God’s purposes for this time in which we live. God calls each of us with our gifts and ways of serving, for the time we yet have, to love one another. The message, “Do not worry,” is the same as “Trust God.” Our heavenly Father knows what we need, knows what we need right now in this time, and cares for us. We are simply to go after God’s reign and purpose, and trust that God will provide what we need to do what God calls us to do.

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Solidarity and the Coronavirus

It was a nurse practitioner that got me “woke.” She made plain that the trajectory we are presently on, without radical measures, will mean an exponential growth of the coronavirus. Her sharing also made plain the steps that I needed to take. I am taking directions from the doctors in my life and listening to the CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention). God speaks to us in many ways.

Here is a sobering warning from an article this morning: “If the number of cases were to continue to double every three days, there would be about a hundred million cases in the United States by May.” https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2020/world/corona-simulator/?itid=hp_hp-banner-low_virus-simulator520pm%3Ahomepage%2Fstory-ans

It is all about containment at this point. It is about flattening out the growth curve. Therefore, it is about social distancing and cutting down on gatherings. (Along with hand washing and other practices that ought to be a general part of our lives.) The CDC is now encouraging gatherings of no more than 50. Illinois is closing restaurants and bars. The more we can stay out of circulation the better. This is particularly true for those of us who are able to do this. Young adults, who may have much less to be concerned about personally with this virus, must care about the wider community. There are some who have this virus and do not know it and are carriers.

We each have a part to play for the sake of the common good. Christians know (if they do not forget) that they are part of this world with all its problems, struggles, and breakdowns. We share in the decisions and calls to action. We know we are to seek knowledge and love our neighbor. We are called away from acting from fear or from self-absorption. We are to be a “people for others.” We must take steps regarding our gatherings in the same manner that others in the larger community must do.

We are to pray. Pray and act for the vulnerable among us. Pray for health workers and others who are on the front lines in countering this pandemic. Pray for those who are out of work and those who have child-care issues. Pray for leaders and those in positions of authority whose decisions affect the direction that we, as a global community, take. Pray for solidarity, that we work together for the good of all.

Be mindful of the changing needs in our communities. Each congregation has various ministries and ways of serving, some of which can be activated in response to specific needs. New ways of serving also may come into being in response to what is happening around us.

And receive the gift that is present in what we are enduring right now. We are experiencing an astonishing global action. Actions are being taken despite the effects on the economy. We must learn from this. What we are seeing right now of the global response, we must give witness to, when it comes to combating global climate change.

People of faith, reach out for discernment for the actions to take and for what God is doing in this time.

Filed under: Serving, SocietyTagged with: ,

No Substitute For Discernment

Those of us who are citizens of the United States of America are presently involved in making decisions regarding leadership in our nation, decisions about who to vote for. We are having to discern and decide among human beings, like us, who are flawed. People of faith pray for guidance as they listen to candidates and weigh various factors of our present situation. Some, however, may look to religious leaders for direction and may tell themselves that it is enough to get direction from this or that “man of God” or “woman of God,” as if we could simply rely on another person to tell us what to do without exercising discernment. However, Jesus tells us that we each have a responsibility to exercise discernment. He tells us that not everyone who says “Lord, Lord” is connected to God’s reign. Therefore, we are responsible to know them by their fruits; we are to exercise discernment in relation to religious leaders and what they tell us.

Jesus tells us not to be like religious leaders who are hypocrites or play-actors and who do what they do “so that they may be praised by others.” What we see of them, their outward actions and words, is a cover for what is inside. We are to exercise discernment so that we recognize false prophets. Outwardly Jesus tells us they wear sheep’s clothing, but “inwardly they are ravenous wolves.” (Matthew 7:15-16) They may talk religiously, read their Bible, and tell us that they are for a return to morality in America. But Jesus says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)

Jesus tells us that we know false prophets by their fruit, that is, by their actions and by what is important to them. What they treasure tells us where their heart is. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21) We cannot see into another person’s heart; we cannot see what motivates them, but we can see their fruit. We see what gets expressed and acted out, and, in this way, we see what they treasure, what they go after, and what is truly important to them.

Do their lives manifest what Jesus calls the weightier matters: doing justice, loving mercy and living faithfully? Do they, like Jesus, actively care for the plight of the poor, the outcast, the refugee? Do they extend God’s mercy and welcome to the broken and the bound. Are they about healing and liberation? Or, instead of God’s welcome, do they lay heavy burdens on others by condemnation and blame, or even by belittling and ridicule?

Whether we are discerning our next steps or discerning whether to listen to a particular teacher, proclaimer, or prophet, it comes down to a matter of discerning God’s will: The one who enters God’s reign is the “one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” We must discern not only our next steps (God’s will for us), but discern false leaders and proclaimers. This is critical for our life together and for the building of true community. We must be careful that we are not led astray or that we lead others astray. If our prejudices, fears, and attitudes toward others govern how we see things, then we will be attracted to religious leaders that cast blame on others and demean those we do not like.

We must do what Paul tells us to do: “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice” and “be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God.” It is only by relinquishing our lives to God that we are able to discern God’s will. It is this discernment that enables us not only to see what is of God and what God calls us to do but to recognize the voices that declare God’s will and those that do not.

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Followers of Jesus and War

With the assassination of a leader in another nation, the United States has expanded its warring ways in the Middle East and increased the possibilities of all-out war with Iran. In the face of this reality, the follower of Jesus does not look to see where his or her political party affiliation is on this issue. The follower does not look to a particular ideology or philosophy or the “realistic” response within the framework of global politics. Nor does the follower check with his or her feelings about kin and country, people and nation.

The follower of Jesus listens to the one he or she follows:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. (Matthew 5:43-45)

Jesus, who proclaims that the “reign of God” is near, lets us know that God’s love is near. God’s love is not limited to the love of neighbor and kin. After all, God loves a humanity that has run from God. Paul, in his letter to the congregation in Rome, reminds us that “while we were enemies” (to God), God reconciled us. This love of God, the love that loves enemies, is near and we can open ourselves to it, surrender our lives to it, so that we pray for those who persecute us. So that we do what Proverbs 25 encourages us to do: “If your enemies are hungry, give them bread to eat; and if they are thirsty, give them water to drink.”

This love is counter-cultural and counters the operation of worldly politics. It is to this love that the followers of Jesus must witness. God has a radically different way for us to operate than that of the power-politics of the nations of the world. Within the framework of national sovereignty, security, and national interests, coercive power plays a dominant role. And this love of God that loves enemies, makes no sense and has no place. But that must not keep the follower of Jesus from witnessing to that love. We witness to God’s reign and ways of governing. We call a world back to the source of all creation. It is a call from death to life—to Life Itself.

The seeming futility of such a witness must not keep us from witnessing. It is a matter of faithful obedience to the one we follow—to the living Christ. We must witness in word and action. In the early centuries of the church of Christ, there was a common recognition that following Jesus excluded soldiering. (Second century, Tertullian: “The Lord in disarming Peter henceforth disarms every soldier.”) The “just war theory” came later as Christianity became entangled with the state.

Follower of Jesus, witness to God’s love that reveals itself most powerfully in the love of enemies and acts by making peace where there is discord. Encourage the community of faith of which you are a member to operate in solidarity as a witness. Join with others to call this nation away from war and warring ways. Call it to the ways of peace. The security of this nation will never be in its power over others globally or in its expanding and maintaining its “interests.” It will be in doing justice and its care for the needs of others. Its oppressive and unjust actions in the world pave the way for its destruction. We must witness to those oppressive ways, for our nation and its leaders are in denial and operate blind to this nation’s own forms of terror unleashed upon others.

As witnesses, we are called to prayer and action. In a world that gravitates to war, we are to do those things that make for peace: Do justice, love mercy and live faithfully. Jesus says to us, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

Filed under: Discipleship, Justice, Love, Peace, War, WitnessTagged with: , ,